I'm Into Insomniacs (Reverse Falls)
by overadventurefalls12
Summary: Dipper Pines, 17 years old, has lived in Gravity Falls since he was 12 years old ever since the mysterious death of his mother. Shipped away with his twin sister Mabel, they came across a matching seat of amulets with the ability to grant telepathy and telekinesis. Everything seems normal for Dipper Pines and Mabel, but can the new girl in town change that? (Dipper X Pacifica)
1. Prologue

It was dark. There was nothing. Not even his own mind. He just laid there, motionless, as the waves of sleep began to wash over him. His eyes seemed to become droopy, wishing to open for the last time before he could rest. But the chances of that were unlikely. Dipper Pines, age 16, was an insomniac. Ever since he was a child, he seemed to go harsher into the nights. Perhaps that explained his boring mood. How he always seemed to have no emotion. Maybe it was just a reaction to the lack of sleep. But, if that were true, perhaps he wouldn't be having such dreams. No. Such horrible dreams. The kinds that made him feel lucky knowing he wouldn't be going to bed any time soon.  
Dipper sighed, turning to his right to see his twin sister, sleeping on the other side of the room. Oh, how much he envied her. He would never say it, but he hated knowing that she could sleep and he couldn't. That's always how it was, wasn't it? She could this and he couldn't that? It seemed the only thing he surpassed her at was magic. Definitely magic, if anything. He knew, even though she had the beauty, he had the magic. And not the typical 'pull a bunny out of a hat' trick. Absolutely not. If he used his magic on a bunny in a hat, he'd turn it inside out. And this magic didn't just come to them. He had made sacrifices. He had made deals. His sins alone were enough to, if you heard them, make you tear your ears off.  
He remembered it like it was yesterday. How old were they? 5? 7? Who knew? The memory was haunting either way. You could be a 50 year old man and had done what they did. Only difference was, if you were a 50 year old man, you would have either died of a heart attack or put a bullet through your own head. The kids would have done the same if they had ever gotten access to guns as children. The memory… it seemed to still be fresh in his mind. Like it really was yesterday.

(A/N: So... I just got this account. I have an account on Wattpad (Don't laugh) as well with some other stories as well. Same name. THX for reading!)


	2. Memory Oh Memory

"Dipper! Dipper sweetie! Where is my little dipper?" Dipper giggled, hiding under the table. Every time his mother's feet passed the table where he was hiding, he made sure to tuck his knees into his chest tightly. He made sure his toes weren't sticking out of the bottom of the table. And he made sure to keep his tiny little giggles muffled. His mother's bare feet seemed to dance around the floor as she 'looked' for him. Her feet sprinted to the left of the table, than to the right, only to stop in the middle of the table in the end.  
"Hmm…. Where could he be?" His mother tapped her chin, thinking for a moment. "Well… If he's not here…" Dipper's mother said, slowly bending down towards the hiding spot of her son, about to lift up the table cloth. There was a pause in her sentence, as her hand gripped onto the white cloth. "Boo!" Dipper then popped his head out from under the table, not giving his mother any time to even lift it up. His mother screamed, grabbing Dipper and lifting him into the air. "Ah! There's a monster in the kitchen!" Dipper laughed, making loud roars and making claw movements with his hands.  
"I win! I win! I win!" Said a loud, high pitched, feminine voice. Dipper and his mother turned to there right, only to see a little girl in a puffy pink dress, dancing around in her victory. "You sure did!" Said her mother, putting Dipper to the ground to give Mabel a kiss on the forehead. She smiled at her daughter for a moment, only to feel a pull at her sleeve from her son. She looked into his eyes, seeing them filled with hope and desire. "Again?" Dipper asked, still holding onto her sleeve. His mother looked into his eyes, slightly unhappy.  
"I'm sorry. I have to go to work. B-but I'll be back. And when I am, I'll play as much as you want!" Dipper and Mabel exploded into happiness. They grabbed each other's hands, their mother in the middle of their little circle, and began to jump around and sing in joy. "My talented little children! You have the voice of your fa-"Their mother stopped herself, clamping her hand over her mouth. "I mean- How did you ever grow to be so talented?" Their mother laughed nervously, pulling on her collar to release heat.  
"Mom… Why did he-"Dipper's question was interrupted by a knock on the door. "Coming! I'm sorry, Dipper. This talk is going to have to wait for later." She stood up, going to the door, only to hear a faint whisper from her son. "Yah. I've never heard that one before…" She stopped for a moment, turning to face him. But she turned back. She reached for the door, pulling on the door knob. Who came in surprised her. "Stanford! Hey! Kids! It's your Grunkle Stanford!" She called for her children, only for Stan to wave his hands in distress. "No! This isn't the time. We need to talk. NOW."

(I've actually already published this on Wattpad, so some of the chapters are already made. In case you were going to give me some criticism, wait for me to publish the chapters I've already written. We can go up from there. THANKS!)


	3. Part Two

The children raced to greet there great uncle Stan. They didn't really talk with him much, but they always loved their old relatives. Giving out candy and telling stories. Dipper especially liked the boring ones. Those stories being told were the only times he could remember actually getting some sleep. Even at 5, he could never seem to sleep and he didn't know why. The children reached the side of their mother, only to have her hold her arm out in defense, making sure to block the path to their gruncle. "Children. Go to your rooms. Lock the doors. And don't come out until I say so." Their mother (Let's just call her Dianne for now) then turned to them, shooing them to their rooms for safety, or perhaps just so they couldn't hear what they were talking about.  
The twins didn't deny her wishes. Being a single mother, they had learned that you could only push her so far until she cracks under the pressure. Then she doesn't say anything. She just went crazy. Almost to the point of the children being the target of her stress. But, she had learned to control herself. But in doing this, she had taught them to be afraid of her at times. With that, the children ran to their room, locked the door, and closed the blinds just in case. They said nothing. They just sat in the room, waiting. Waiting for something. Anything. That told them they could leave the room.  
But, it seemed like there was nothing at the moment. Not even a voice in the other room. What was happening? Why was it so silent? Why was it so calm? What could they be doing that was so worthy of being quiet? Then, the silence was gone. The twins jolted out of their thoughts to hear a scream. An inhuman scream. They didn't dare to leave the room though. Half from their mother's wishes, and the other half from fear of what had happened while they were in their room. They didn't know what happened, but they knew one thing. The scream belonged to their mother.  
The screams continued for only a moment, cutting itself off with a painful sob. Only then, did the children know complete silence. The fear it cared with it killed the children inside. How long had they been sitting on their bedroom floor for? It must have been hours, because after a while, the children got tired of waiting. "I'm going to check what happened." Mabel said, getting up off the floor. Dipper didn't stop her. He was just as curious, if not more, to see what had happened. Mabel reached for the knob, gripping onto it tightly, only to let go as quickly as she could. She yelped in pain, seeing her now red hand throbbing in pain. Dipper rushed over to her, gripped her palm gently, inspecting the wound.  
"Y-your hand… It's … Burned…" Dipper rushed to the door, grabbing a blanket. He rapped the blanket around the knob, turning it. What he saw seemed to be straight out of the pit of Hell. There, in front of him, was his mother's carcass. He looked to the dead body to see she had been clawing at their door, trying to get inside. Then, looking ahead of him, was a fire. What had happened while they were in there? Why had this happened? He didn't know the answer. But one thing he did know, was he needed to get out of there. Who knew how much time they had? Dipper grabbed his sister's hand, rushing to the window of the room. Before they jumped, Dipper took one last look at his dead mother, wondering why they couldn't hear the clawing of her pleading wishes.  
*2 days later*  
"Well… At least we have somewhere to live…" Mabel said, looking around the room of the homeless shelter. The place was much bigger than their original home, being that there mother couldn't afford a house as big as all of their school mates. Mabel always seemed to look on the bright side of things. But Dipper? Well, he had learned 2 things. One, always listen. Even if it's the smallest detail in the world. If you don't listen, you could miss something that changes everything. Two, the family you have is the only one you get. After learning this, you could say that Dipper began to dote on Mabel constantly. He wouldn't leave her side often. I think, around this time, his sleeping habits kind of left his body. Sometimes, when he couldn't sleep, he'd just watch her. It didn't make him tired. It distracted him from how sleepy he was, reminding him that she wasn't sleepy.  
Two years later, their grunkle Stan had filled out the papers. He was now, and forever, their legal guardian. It wasn't too bad. Whenever he wasn't drunk, I guess you could say he was bearable. How could such a drunk man be so rich at the same time? I suppose, if a man is known by name by every casino in America, he must have made some money. And Gravity falls wasn't such a bad place either. The house was definitely bigger than their original one. But, he always had his suspicious of that place. And it wasn't until he was 12 that he found out how true it all was. Along with a book, he had found an amulet. 2, actually. One for him, and one for his sister. If only he understood the power he had just unleashed.


	4. Welcome To Gravity Falls

Pacifica's P.O.V.  
"What?! I-I'm going where?!" I jumped up from my pink bed, looking to my father with an unhappy face. "I'm sorry sunshine, but if you're going to have a summer job, I want it to be somewhere safe." My father, Preston Southeast, responded. "But- How is it more safe than having a job here?!" I asked, trying to talk him out of it. "I found someone to take care of you. He's the owner of the shop you'll be working at, actually. And he has a wonderful son. You'd like him. He's very… Unique." Preston said. But I didn't want to listen. I had already had plans to get a job. But in Oregon? That doesn't sound close to being a sunny beach in California. I was going to hang out with my friends, go to the mall, and finally get a boyfriend. My friend Carleigh heard from Amy down at the coffee shop, who heard from her barber's aunt, who heard from Laila at school, who heard from me, that Cameron was going to ask me out. I can't miss that!  
"It's settled. Now, go on and get packed. It's a 4 hour trip by bus, and you don't want to miss it for your first day of work." He said. Then, it hit me. "Wait. You're not coming?" I asked, surprised by this new information. "Oh pumpkin, I'd love to come with you. But- I already have a job. And If I come with you, who knows what'll happen-""Done!" Father stopped, looking at me. The second he said he wasn't coming, I got right to packing. I don't know what this summer's going to be like, but I do know one thing. No parents! I can't wait! I'm so excited! 12 weeks! No parents! No school! A summer job! And a chance to make new friends! Finally, something positive to look forward to this summer. Good bye Cameron, hello freedom.  
*The next day*  
The bus ride was bumpy, but guess what? I found gum on the bus floor! Sure, you could say it was "pre-chewed," But I like to say it was just heavily used. Anyways, my dad told me I'm going to be working in this thing called the "mystery shack." Cool, right? I wonder what it's like! Oh man! Oh man! I jolted forward on the bus as it came to a stop. "Last stop, Gravity Falls." He said. I couldn't wait any longer. I jumped out of my seat, raced to the door, and jumped off. I waved to the bus driver, though he didn't bother waving back. Who cares though? No parents. No problems. I looked ahead of me, already seeing the shack in my view. "Wow! It's so rustic!" I said, taking in its glory. Little did I know, while looking at the shack, I was in the way of 2 particularly evil twins. Literally.


	5. (Not) Nice To Meet You

Mabel's P.O.V.  
I was just walking along, my brother at my side, enjoying the day. "What do you think we should do for the next show?" I asked my brother, holding his hand as we walked. He didn't say anything. He just looked at me and gave me a side smile. He never really did say much. Not since we were adopted by our great uncle Stan. Let's just say, after being adopted by him, Dipper had learned to hold his tongue. I sighed, not knowing what to do. "Come on Dip. I don't have any ideas and you always know what to do." I said, squeezing his hand slightly. "You'll figure something out. I don't have any ideas either anyways." He said in a bored tone. I grunted in frustration. I let go of his hand, reaching into my bag to pull out a water bottle. I took the cap off, about to take a sip, when …..WHAM! I was on the side walk, covered in water. I looked up to see a blond girl, completely caught off guard. "O-M-G… I am SO sorry! I had no idea you were in front of me! I just-"I stopped the girl, putting my hand up. Dipper knelt to my side, pulling me to my feet.  
"I don't think an apology will be necessary." I said, crossing me arms. The stupid blond seemed confused. She's obviously new here. "Really? But- you're all wet. And it looked like I knocked you down pretty hard." I smirked, walking up to the girl. "Your right… But an apology is much less satisfying than this." She looked confused once again. But I quickly showed her what I meant. Within seconds, that blond girl was the one on the concrete. "Ouch! What was that for?!" She asked. "This is what justice looks like sweetie." I said. "Hmm. Let's see… On the ground… Embarrassed… What's missing? Oh, yes!" Once I said that, I reached into my bag, pulling out my water bottle. "Drenched in my favorite outfit? Check!" Just as I said that, I turned the bottle upside-down and poured the remainder of the water on her head. I smirked at the misty-eyed blond. It definitely looked like she was about to cry. Victory once again.  
 *****Dipper's P.O.V.*****  
I looked down at the girl, covered in water. She had small tears forming in her eyes. I could tell, she may have been covered in water, but her face was definitely still turning red. I sighed, looking behind me. Mabel was already making her way home after her little 'episode' with this blond girl. But it didn't look right. This girl, she was crying. She was crying in public and no one had come to comfort her or even ask what was wrong. I didn't have to ask what was wrong though. I was there. Why didn't I do something? Perhaps it was the fact that I didn't know this girl? Maybe it was because Mabel was the one doing it and I wouldn't interfere with her plan to have 'justice.' Or maybe I really am a coward. Just like Stan told me.  
Whatever it was, I felt like leaving her there to cry wasn't the right response. I knelt down to her side, putting my hand on her shoulder. This shocked the girl. She looked up from her cupped hands to see my face. Her eyes were filled with tears and it was no doubt that that caused it to be hard to see me. But, I'm guessing, from the large amount of blue I was wearing she knew who I was. Well, not exactly. She knew I was next to Mabel when she bumped into her. She knew I didn't stop my sister from pouring water on me. And she knew, just from looking at me, she didn't like me. The girls face hardened as she slapped my hand away from her. My eyebrows furrowed. 'So that's how we're gonna play it? I try to make you feel better and you turn sour?' I think to myself. Regardless, that didn't stop me from trying again. But this time, I didn't go for her shoulder. I grabbed her chin, lifting it to my face. Her head shook slightly in defense. "G-Go a-*hiccup*-ay." The girl said through tears.  
As her head tried to pull away from my hand, I retorted by pressing my thumb against her cheek bone to keep her head in place. This gave me a clear view of the girl's face. The crying made her eyes puffy, and her cheeks red. But her eyes were so blue. Unlike mine, which were usually brown, unless I was using the amulet. I sighed. Her mascara. It was running down her cheeks like thick blood. While her chin was still in my hand, I reached for my handkerchief. As I got it folded into a perfect square, I proceeded by pressing it firmly against her face. "I apologize for my dear sister's actions. She's much kinder than you think. She just gets-"I stopped, hearing the girl sniffle in response. I tried to change the subject to something other than my sister and her actions. "What's your name blond?" I asked, giving her an emotionless look. But, deep inside, I wanted to smile to her. I just couldn't bring myself to do it for some reason. "Pacifica… Southeast." She said.


	6. My Name

They stayed like that for a moment longer, Dipper still scraping off the mascara that plagued her face. "That's a very lovely name." He responded. Pacifica blushed in response to his flattering compliment. She hadn't relieved it before, being that her eyes were so watery, but he was incredibly handsome. His hair, combed to the side to reveal a strange birthmark. His eyes, a soft brown. And his lips. Let's not get into detail about how perfect and plump they looked, pressing against each other to form a straight line.  
Let's just say, Pacifica spent the majority of her time trying to avoid looking at them. If she didn't, she might be tempted to stick her tongue out and do something she shouldn't. She just gulped, trying to avoid them. But the thought continued to pop up in her mind. 'No one's around.' 'He wouldn't mind if we got a little friendly, right?' 'Oh God, help me. He's so hot!' Pacifica's blush only increased as her mind began to wonder into waters she should never even THINK about at this age. Dipper seemed to notice how hot her face was getting, because he leaned in even closer to her.  
"Are you alright?" He asked, cocking his head to the side. Pacifica was about to die. The temptation was overwhelming. And it wasn't until know that she relieved something. When he moved in on her, looking closer into her face, he was also swaddling her hips. Her legs, between his, made her burn with desire. Her face was redder than ever. She honestly felt like she was going to get a nose bleed if his face got any closer. Then, he did something that would have made any girl swoon. He leaned his forehead onto hers, closing his eyes as they rubbed heads for a moment. "Hm… You don't seem to have a fever. Why are you so warm than?" He asked himself. She coughed, trying to release some of the tension in her. He was way out of line, and if she had any sense she'd slap him in the face and push him off her.  
So why didn't she? But, only a fool would really ask such an obvious question. She wanted it. She wanted him. She hadn't known him for a full day and he already showed more kindness now than anyone had shown her all week. He was special. He was different. He was- Something struck her by surprise. Who was he? She don't even know him. Not even his name. And he showed her so much kindness. Why? Why had he given this random girl the light of day? Surely there are hundreds of girls who would kill to be her for even a second right now.  
"Are you just going to sit there or take my hand?" Dipper asked. Pacifica jumped from the spot she was sitting at. She looked to him, seeing he had already stood up while she was deep in thought. His hand, extended out to her, beckoned for her grasp. She then looked to his face once more. A slight… smile… plastered on his face. That one smile meant so much to her already. She reached for his hand, surprised to feel him pull her up so quickly. As he did so, she bumped up against him, giving them a slightly odd pose. When she was pulled up, she was off balance completely, causing her to collapse into his arms. Her arms where around his neck, trying to hoist her up, while his arms where around her waist, trying to do the same.  
Dipper quickly collected himself, pushing her off of him. No matter how beautiful he thought she was, he was a gentleman. There should be no such thoughts. She's a lady. At least treat her like it. "*Cough* Thanks." Pacifica said, rubbing her arm. "Um… Wh-what's your name? I didn't catch it, did I?" Dipper shook his head in response. Pacifica extended her hand, waiting for him to take it. Once he did, he bent down and gave a slight peck on the back of her hand. "Dipper Pines Mi'lady." That was it for Pacifica, she had officially died inside. Her spirit was gone and all that was left was the shell of a girl head over heels for some guy she just now found the name of. Dipper smiled at her once again, slowly releasing her hand from his. "You've impressed me today. You're very… Uplifting. I'll see you tonight, I suppose?" Dipper asked, looking at Pacifica with hopeful eyes.  
Pacifica was caught off guard by this. Tonight? What does he mean tonight? "Wh- I mean, YES! Of course. A-Ha-ha-Ha." She responded nervously. Dipper was no longer smirking at this point. It was a beaming smile. He was now truly happy. "Wonderful. I await you're arrival at the tent." He said with a bow. Tent? Now there's a tent? What is he talking about? As he rose from his bow, returning to his perfect posture, he reached behind Pacifica's ear. She was confused for a moment, only for him to pull out a daisy from behind it. "I can't wait." He said, giving one last bow before leaving.


	7. Hello Little Puppy

"Gideon! Someone's at the door!" Bud shouted out. Gideon jolted out of his 'intense' reading to look up at the door. He sighed, reluctantly getting up from the couch. "Man. I just found the perfect spot." He grumbled, dragging his feet to the door. He opened it, seeing a bleach blond haired girl with a daisy in her hair. 'She must be the new worker' he thought, about to greet her. But he was interrupted by her collapsing into his arms. What the? "Uh… are you O.k. miss?" He asked, trying his best to hold her up. When he got no responses from her, he furthered the questioning. "Do you need help?" He questioned. She looked up to him, batting her long eyelashes to look at him with her blue eyes.  
Gideon acknowledged 2 things. 1, she was pretty. And 2, she wasn't his type. Anyways, there was a moment of silence before she spoke. "*Sigh* Someone's stole something from me." She said, looking away with a pouting face. Gideon rolled his eyes, pushing her off of him so she could stand on her own. "Too bad. Crime rate here is extremely high now-a-days. Especially after the media found out about serial killers here." Gideon stated, crossing his arms as he looked at her with a slightly upset look. Pacifica furrowed her brow, annoyed by him. "Don't you want to know what he stole?!" She asked, finally out of her daze. Gideon scoffed, looking at her with unimpressed eyes. "Your heart?" He said, knowing what she was getting at all along.  
"Wow! Yah! It was!" Pacifica beamed, completely caught off guard by his 'wild guess.' "Are you a psychic?!" She furthered, straining her neck to get closer to his face. Now she was really out of line. He backed up, surprised by their close proximity. His mouth was agape for a moment before shutting. He had never met someone so… naïve. This was obviously the type of girl who could be easily impressed. He thought for a moment, pondering what he should do with her. He was about to speak when- "Gideon! Son!" Gideon turned around, seeing none other than his father, Bud Gleeful. "Gi-"he stopped mid-sentence, looking over to where Pacifica stood. There was a pause from him, making Pacifica nervous. 'Maybe this is the wrong shack' she thought to herself.  
Bud just stared at her for a moment longer, before exploding into joy. "My my my! I've never seen such a pretty little peach walk through the store before I saw you!" Bud complimented, walking up to her. He knelt down, giving the young girl a harsh pat on the back and chuckled as she wobbled from the force. "Not too sturdy, are we?" He asked, giving a small chuckle. "Well, we can fix that. Gideon!" Bud turned to his son, pointing to the floor next to him, signaling him to come to his side. "Yah?" Gideon asked questioningly. "You see those woods out there?" He asked, pointing out the window so Gideon could see what he was talking about. Gideon looked in the direction of his father's pointing finger, only to look back at him with a bored look. "Uh-huh. So?" He asked, crossing his arms. "Well son…"Bud leaned in on his son's ear, whispering something. Pacifica strained to hear, but to no avail.  
Once they were done whispering Gideon had a worried look on his face. "Are you sure?" Gideon asked. His father nodded, sending chills down Gideon's spine. "O-O.k." He responded. Pacifica looked to Gideon with a questioning look, only to be whorled around by Bud. "Whelp, since you're a new employee, how would you like an easy job today?" This statement caught Pacifica off guard, making her squeal with joy. "*Gasp* Would I?!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. Bud gave a slight grunt for laughter. "How would you like to hang up some signs in the forest?"

Pacifica skipped through the woods, Gideon following close behind holding all the signs. It didn't take a genius to be able to tell Pacifica and Gideon were polar opposites. But, nonetheless, Pacifica made a promise to herself that she would make him her new best friend by the end of the summer. And Pacifica never broke her promises. As she and Gideon traveled through the forest, they realized how quiet everything seemed. It was very uncomfortable. So, Pacifica decided to break the ice. "So, what do you like to do?" She asked. Gideon didn't respond though. That was odd to her. She turned around, making sure he was even still there. As she looked at him, she could see the worry on his face. "Gideon?" Pacifica asked. That seemed to snap Gideon out of whatever he was thinking. "WH-what?!" He asked, looking arounds vigorously, as if he was looking for something.  
"Hey. What's going on with you? Are you o.k. or are you always like this?" Pacifica asked, tilting her head. This made Gideon grumble unhappily, as if she meant for him to get offended. Pacifica rolled her eyes, pressing the questions further. "What are you looking for?" Pacifica asked in a sweet voice. She fluttered her eyes, trying to seem as comforting and as approachable as possible. But, her actions only seemed to make him shiver in disgust as she got near. "Come on Gid. What's got you so down?" Pacifica continued, poking his cheek. Gideon sighed. "If I tell you, will you shut up?" Gideon asked. Pacifica nodded her head vigorously, like a 5 year old hyped up on cake and ice cream. She took her fingers and ran them across her lips in a pinched-like form, symbolizing her zipping her lips. Gideon shuffled his feet, kind of worried about what she would think. "I- I have a theory about these woods. Monster-like theories." He started, not taking his eyes off of the ground.  
"Like- There was this one night… A-at the mystery shack. My dad asked for me to get everyone out of the shop. As I… *Gulp*… I-I was clearing everyone out, when I saw a man in a black jacket. It was very odd. His entire face was covered and you couldn't even see his eyes. There was no guarantee of him being able to see either. Well, anyways, the man refused to leave. He protested, saying he was still looking. B-but… I pushed him harder, trying to get him to leave. Once I had finally had enough, I grabbed the broom and poked him on his back to get out. B-But, he still wouldn't leave. I was so mad… I hit him with the broom and-"Gideon stopped, falling to the ground. He was petrified of the memory that he had to relive. His breathing became heavier. He clenched his chest, trying to stop himself from hyperventilation, only for Pacifica to get on top of him and start to shake him. "And what?! WHAT?!" She asked him, the suspense killing her. Gideon stopped, looking at her finally calming down. "It was gnomes." He finally said.  
Pacifica groaned, getting off of him. "Weak! WEAK!" Pacifica crossed her arms, disappointed by the ending. "Pacifica! They may not be high level monsters, but they're still creatures you don't see every day!" He complained. Pacifica just huffed, not impressed. "You know what? Forget it! I can't stand you already! If I have to stay with you for the entire summer, I'm going to spend that time staying as far away as possible from you!" Gideon said, replying to Pacifica's rotten attitude. "What's that supposed to mean?!" Pacifica fired back. Gideon didn't say anything. He just dropped the signs and walked off, leaving her to do it herself. "Gideon! What are you doing you dork?! You- I mean we- have to put these signs up!" She screamed at him. "Use that thick blonde head of yours and figure it out idiot!" Gideon turned around as he said that, pointing to his head. Pacifica stopped, shocked by his sudden insult. 'What's wrong with him?' Pacifica thought to herself. She looked at Gideon's silhouette getting smaller and smaller as he got farther and farther away.  
Pacifica balled up her fists, finally letting out her anger. "FINE! I don't need you!" She yelled at him. But it was no use. He had already made it out of the forest. But, to her surprise, she realized she didn't even know how to get out. "Psh. I'll be fine. I know Canada like the back of my hand. I studied all the maps on the bus. I'll be fine." Pacifica said proudly. Suddenly, she heard a twig snap. She turned around quickly to see a man in a black jacket staring at her. "You do know we're in Oregon, don't you? You don't know how to get out of the forest, little puppy?"

(Does the title make sense now?)


	8. Who are 'Chiu'

"Dipper! GET DOWN HERE!" Grunkle Stan shouted to the boy, obviously cranky. Dipper sighed, rolling his eyes as he closed the book he had been reading. He walking down the staircase of his home, seeing his grunkle at the doorway with someone. Dipper observed the man. Asian, most likely. He was also very tall and thin. He was wearing glasses and had a stern look on his face. He definitely didn't look like someone you'd like to invite into your house. And yet, here we are. The man walked through the doorway, another person following behind him. This one was different. He wasn't tall or had a stern look on his face. In fact, it wasn't a 'he' at all! It was a girl, about 17 as well. She had long black hair, glasses, and a green school uniform. It wasn't that easy to see her face though, being that her focus was on her frog-cover phone. Once they were both inside the man turned to the girl. "Pumpkin, would you like to say hello?" The man asked, causing the girl to scoff and roll her eyes.  
She looked up from her phone, seeing the old man that was Mr. Pines. She gave a half-hearted "Hi", before looking back at her phone. The man then cleared his throat, feeling quite embarrassed by her behavior. "My daughter's not very… Outgoing." He said, trying to cover up for his daughter's behavior. Mr. Pines nodded, as a sign of understanding. Once Dipper made it down all the stairs, getting to Stan's side, Mr. Pines seemed to jump with joy. "Oh! This is my nephew! Th-The one I was telling you about! D- Uh… Dipper! Haha! Yah! Love this kid. You'd like him!" He said nervously, as if he was trying to sell him. Dipper looked at his grunkle, than to the man. "Stan. What's going on?" Dipper asked in a bored tone. Stan laughed nervously, pulling at his collar. "Dipper! Silly! This is Mr. Chiu. He owns a gaming company in Japan. We're about to make a little 'deal' about combining businesses." He said through his teeth. His eyes were wide, his pupils small. He was obviously not happy with Dipper right now. "Why do I have to be here for this?" Dipper asked, crossing his arms.  
Mr. Chiu cut in with a grin, moving aside to give a better view of his daughter. "Well, you're the deal my boy!" He said, beaming a smile. Dipper's eyes widened, but he tried his best to keep a calm face. "What?" Dipper turned his head to Stan, venom inking through his words. Dipper didn't understand much of what was happening, but it couldn't be good. "You see, my daughter's a great, loving, and cheery-"Mr. Chiu was cut off by his daughter. "Ugh. Dad. Could you shut up for 5 seconds? I hate being here. Whoever this 'Dipper' kid is can take a hike. I'm not into dating anyone that lives in this dump." She said, not bothering to even look at Dipper once. "Honey. Could you at least look at him?" He asked. She gave a loud sigh, only looking up at Dipper for a second before going back to her phone. Then she paused, her face had shock written all over it. She had to take a double take at him. She couldn't believe her eyes.  
She dropped her phone, walking up to Dipper. She looked at him in the face only to continue by walking around him. She circled him, causing him to tense up and bunch up his shoulders. She definitely made him feel uncomfortable. What was she looking at? Correction. What was she looking for? Flaws. She scanned him up and down. In the end, she jumped onto his arm, clinging to him for dear life. "Daddy! This is the one! THIS IS THE ONE!" She screamed, causing Dipper to wince. 'What the Hell is going on right now?' Dipper thought to himself. "Perfect! So, is it a deal Mr. Pines?" Chiu asked, holding out his hand. Stan didn't wait for a second to respond. "Ha! You bet your Charley Horse it is!" He said, gripping the hand with joy. Dipper, on the other hand, was trying to pull away from the girl. She may have been pretty, but she was screaming in his ears like something had ripped her leg off and was crawling around the walls and ceiling with it.  
A couple more minutes of screams and cuddles from Candy later, they had left. Dipper was a mess. His hair was ruffled up, a hole showing where she had grabbed his arm at, and nail marks imprinted on his skin. The second the door closed, Dipper went off. "What the crap Stan?!" He shrieked, not caring who heard it. "Ha. What seems to be the problem kiddo?" He asked, as if nothing had happened. Dipper's eye began to twitch, his hands balling up into a fist. "Oh, calm down birthmark. This deal's nothing to be worried about. After Candy sees what a loser you are she'll leave you. And I already got the money. So it's a win-win scenario." Stan said, turning to leave, only for Dipper to fire something back at him. "What kind of man are you?! Selling out your own nephew?! You low down dirt bag! You should be ashamed of yourself!" Dipper said, finally letting out all of his anger. Stanley stopped in his tracks, processing all of the words Dipper had just said. He turned around, no signs of emotion on his face. He got close to Dipper, a few inches away at best. His breath was cold on Dipper's face. It smelt like alcohol. That was enough for Dipper to promise himself he would always be sober. Dipper didn't show his feeling of disgust though. It seemed like they both had the same face on. But only one of theirs changed. Stan's.  
Stan was quick, reaching his hand out to grab Dipper by the neck. Dipper gasped, not being quick enough to dodge it. Stan smirked, lifting him off of the ground, only to have him smash Dipper's back against the wall, still in his grasp. Dipper grunted, not even trying to fight it. He had gotten used to this by now. It had happened very often with him. And, if Stan was really drunk, it happened to Mabel too. Stan continued with Dipper's 'punishment' by throwing him to the floor. Dipper fell like a wet noodle. His parts just seemed to flop everywhere. He always felt like he was worthless. And this was why. Because Stan had taken away any worth he had ever had and kept it for himself. Selfish jerk. "Get up. Get up boy." Stan said, some-what out of breath. Dipper paused for a moment, coming to himself. He turned on his side, getting on his hands and knees before boosting himself up. He panted, his heart still raising from the pain. Dipper thought that was it, only to have Stan slap him across the face. This caught Dipper by surprise, only because Stan had a diamond ring on. The ring snagged on Dipper's skin, causing it to be cut and bleed. That wasn't going away any time soon.  
Dipper didn't bother looking up at Stan though, he was too ashamed. Too tired. Too…. Afraid. But Stan wanted to see the fear. Stan wanted to see him crumble. He grabbed the root of Dipper's hair, forcing him to look up into his cold beady eyes. "Listen to me, you ungrateful little twerp. May this be a lesson the next time you want to mouth off to me. O.k.?" Stan asked, giving Dipper the most heartless stare ever. Dipper looked at Stan, a tear fell from his face, making him feel weak and useless. "Don't you dare cry you brat. You brought this on yourself." Stan said. With that, he let go of Dipper's hair, shoving him to the ground. Dipper sat there for a moment, letting the tear dry up and leave his existence. 'That's the last time I ever cry in front of anyone.' Dipper promised himself. Dipper sighed. He needed to get out of his head. He needed to leave his life behind for a while. Not run away. Just clear his head. Everything was moving too fast. He needed peace. Quiet. And mysteries to solve. He needed a forest.

(God, this chapter was so CHEEZY! OH MY GOSH! I can't believe I'm doing this. I'm just too lazy to change it. I've gotten through, like, ten chapters and don't wanna go over it. Kill me. Geez.)


	9. Normal

Pacifica was stunned by this man's sudden appearance out of nowhere, but she knew her manners. Strangers are just friends you haven't met, right? "Oh! Hello! My name's Pacifica Southeast!" She beamed, trying to seem as positive and none-suspicious as possible. "I know exactly who you are, Southeast!" He said, grinning a yellow toothed smile. Pacifica took a step back, ending up hitting a tree. "Uh… How?" She asked, becoming increasingly afraid. "I-Uh- I'm one of Santa Clause's workers. Do you really think Santa can keep up with a bunch of kids all the time? He needs workers to watch the kids." He said, trying to assure her. "What kind of…. Watching?" She asked. He shrugged, trying to think of something. "Oh. You know. The usual. Watching you get off the bus. See you get dissed by a hot girl. Look through the window when your not- I mean-." He stopped, realizing how creepy he was being. He definitely noticed Pacifica's shaking form, freaking out on the inside.  
"O.k. listen, I'm just gonna cut to the chase." He said, grabbing at the opening of his jacket, about to take it off. He stopped, seeing Pacifica about to make a break for it. He stopped her by putting his arm in her way against the tree. "Not that kind of chase, kid." The man said. With that, Pacifica was officially hyperventilating. She had nowhere to go, watching as the man took of his coat. He backed up, finally pulling off his jacket. And what she saw almost made her faint. "Is this weird for you? Do you need to sit down?" He asked. Pacifica's eye twitched, seeing a bunch of gnomes stacked up on each other. "Uh…." Pacifica mustered up, not being able to find any other words. "Yah. So, we're gnomes. I-I'm Jeff…. Hi." Jeff said, obviously a little nervous. Pacifica slapped her forehead, not knowing how to react to any of this. "So… You wanna get married?" Jeff asked. This caused Pacifica to jump in surprise. "WHAT?!" She asked in a freaked out tone. "She's defiant. GET HER!" Jeff shrieked, ordering all the gnomes to attack her.  
~Dipper~  
I rubbed my hand against the scab on my cheek that Stan had made. There's no way that's gonna grow back. Fantastic. Now I'm the crazy, quiet kid with a scare on his face. Just perfect. Whatever. Walking through the forest always makes me feel better. I also had a special spot too. A place only me and Mabel know about. It's so… peaceful. It's so quiet. It's so… me. As I made my way to the spot, I heard a commotion up ahead of the spot. "Oh. What now?" I asked myself, trying to talk myself out of it and just go to my spot. But I sighed, knowing I'd go crazy if I didn't know where that noise was coming from. I walked ahead of me, maybe a couple of minutes later, seeing a girl. She looked… familiar… Anyways, she was surrounded by gnomes. I smirked, finding all of this slightly amusing. A teenager surrounded by a bunch of midgets. Ha! What an odd situation. No matter how funny it was though, I found her destress to be unsettling. She had a face… One I could relate to. She was freaking out, not knowing what to do. Like her fate was inescapable. Believe me when I say I know exactly how she feels. That's why I- Oh, never mind. It's none of your business anyways, now is it?  
I sighed, looking at the girl. I knew exactly what to do. This wasn't the first time I had to deal with gnomes and it won't be the last. I crept up behind them, holding my amulet. With a glow of the gem, a gust of wind seemed too abrupt from nowhere. This caught the gnomes by surprise, causing them to turn around. "It's the Pines twin! Run away!" Jeff screamed, getting on all fours as he, and all of his other gnome friends, ran away. It didn't take much though, being the fact that the gust of wind from my amulet was strong enough to blow them away without any help. As they ran away, getting trapped in litter scattered across the forest, I looked down at the girl. She looks very… Noticeable. Like I had seen her already. Just then, the girl spoke, making he slap my forehead in realization. "You're the guy from off the streets!"


	10. I'm no Damsel

Dipper stared at the girl, feeling like a complete idiot for not realizing it sooner. The blond hair, the rainbow braces, the bedazzled hot pink jacket? It was so obvious. Dipper held out his hand, offering for her to take it, but she didn't. The girl stood up from off the ground, patting herself down to break away from any dirt, causing clouds of dust to float around. Dipper coughed, fanning the clouds away from his face with his hand. Pacifica laughed at his action, nudging him on the shoulder. "Ha… Sorry about the dust." She said, tilting her head to the side, letting her hair fall out of place. Dipper stared at her, not saying anything. This fazed Pacifica, making her question herself for a moment. Was there something on her face? Pacifica lifted up her right eyebrow, staring nervously at the handsome brunet. But he didn't say anything. He just stood there, staring at her emotionlessly. He was definitely a very confusing person. "A-ha-ha…. Why are you staring at me?" Pacifica asked nervously. She didn't have to wait long for a response, almost as if he was just waiting for her to ask him that question. "Why are you in the forest? You could have gotten hurt." He said coldly, shaming her for what seemed to be a stupid thing to do. Pacifica seemed to be taken back by his comment. He seemed less kind than before, when she first met him. She scoffed at his words though, rolling her eyes in annoyance.  
"I'm no damsel, bud. I don't need your help to tell me what to do, k?" She said, trying to sound as sassy and uncaring as she could. She sounded convincing, but not enough for Dipper to believe her. "You didn't seem quite so confident in yourself a couple of moments ago when you were being pulled to the ground by a bunch of gnomes." Dipper retaliated, keeping his face in the same form as before. Pacifica turned to him with a shocked face, giving out a slight gasp in surprise. "Excuse me?! They caught me off guard! And- I-You- Ugh!" She said, not knowing what to say. "Hm. I see. Well, since you seem to have it all figured out, why not explain why you're here in the first place?" He asked, giving off a slight smirk. "It's none of your business!" Dipper looked at her, now with a full on grin. He secretly enjoyed seeing people get annoyed with him. Toying with people's emotions could be fun at times, especially since his grunkle was usually the one to do it to HIM. It was nice to see it happen to someone else once in a while. "Why are you being so rude all of the sudden?! You're so- Gggrrrr! Annoying!" She spat out, taking Dipper by surprise. Him? Annoying? On what planet? Dipper looked into her eyes. She wasn't joking about what she was saying about him, and it made him feel bad for saying what he did to her.  
"Oh." He said, giving a genuinely innocent look. His eyes were wide and his face showed nothing but surprise and slight remorse. "I'm sorry." He said, walking close to her. This took her off guard for a moment, not knowing what to do. But she didn't move. She didn't need to move. She wasn't a damsel in destress and she was going to stand tall against him… Even though he was taller than her. Once he walked up to her, he reached out his hand, waiting for her to take it. "We got off on the wrong foot, didn't we?" He asked, already knowing the answer. Pacifica's once hard face seemed to then soften, showing a more curious face. She looked to the hand… Then back to Dipper… Then back to the hand… And finally back at Dipper. He wasn't joking? Or was he? She couldn't tell. She could never really tell with him. She barely even knew him. But… His face. It was genuine. Every smile he had given her. Real. She then, for the last time, looked at the hand. Her fingers seemed to shake, as her hand made its way to his. It was a slow process, her hand pulling back several times. But, as if the moment was building up to this, her hand slapped against his, giving him a firm squeeze as she shook his hand up and down with energy. He chuckled at her action, seeing how childish she was being. "Hi. I'm Dipper Pines. What's your name?" He said, almost as a re-due for their original meeting. Pacifica smiled, deciding to play along. "Pacifica Southeast." She beamed, letting go of his hand finally. "My word young maiden." He began. "It appears you are lost in these woods." He joked, giving a slight bow at her. Pacifica blushed, not realizing he was still playing around at first. But she chuckled, soon realizing he was messing with her. "Oh, why yes indeed. Could I, perhaps, be escorted out, my knight?" She said, making a curtsy motion as she did. "Yes. Indeed. And, while you're at it, you can explain how you came to be so deep in the woods?" He said, almost glaring. Pacifica wasn't surprised though, she expected him to want answers. And, to be honest, she wanted answers from him too. "Indeed I shall. But, only if you include your tale as well… My lord."


	11. Forest Fun With Friendly Friends

"-And then, like, he ditched me in this forest. I mean, who does that?!" Pacifica asked Dipper, finishing up her story of why she was even in the forest. Dipper didn't say anything, keeping a blank face as he listened to her story. "I could barely believe it! And now- I have to put up these signs by myself." Pacifica said, giving a playful grin as she turned her head to him. Dipper tilted his head, cocking up his eyebrow as he looked to her with a questioning expression. Pacifica smirked, narrowing her eyes at him. "Hey! Here's a crazy idea!" Pacifica said, holding the signs up to his face. "You wouldn't mind holding these, would you?" Dipper's face, slowly changing to a more unamused frown, glared at her. "You appear to be doing just fine with the signs yourself, Southeast." He replied, calling her by her last name for a change. "Woah! Are you getting sour? I thought we were on first name bases, Pines." She said slickly, a smirk tugging at the edges of her lips.  
Dipper rolled his eyes, not bothering to look at her face this time. In fact, he completely turned his head away from her, trying to remember where the forest started and ended. In that moment, Pacifica noticed something that seemed to boggle her mind. Something he definitely didn't have the first time they met. She fought against the urge to question it, but quickly overpowered herself, giving into her curiosity. "Where did you get that scratch on your cheek?" She questioned, pointing to the long strip of skin that was missing from his face. Dipper reflexively moved his hand against the soon-to-be scar and felt what she was talking about. 'Stan' he thought, narrowing his eyes in hatred as he thought about the greedy monster. But he quickly changed his expression, switching it back to his notorious emotionless face. Pacifica looked at it, questions seemingly about to spill from her mouth. She shifted her position, moving the signs into her right arm. Her hand, inches away from his face, made its way to run her fingers over the cut. Once her fingers reached his face, she only had a second or two to caress the surface of his skin before his hand harshly slapped her fingers away with haste.  
Pacifica stepped back in confusion, her eyes wide with surprise. She held her hand to her chest, still feeling the slight tingle from his slap. It didn't hurt, but it felt odd for him to do something like that. Dipper noticed this action and looked to her, seeing how confused she appeared. He stared at her for a moment, seeing her position. The signs, sloppily clutched in her right arm, about to slip out from her grip. Her legs, about to buckle. Her feet, firmly placed against the surface of the ground. Was she… scared of him? No. She just… Didn't quite trust him yet. Or did she? Dipper, noticing how he had been staring, looked away from her. With his gaze off of her, she inched towards him with a cocked eyebrow. She was about to tap him on the shoulder, only to have him shoot his hand out to her like a lightning bolt. He made a swift movement with his hand, creating a clenching motion with his fingers, almost as if he was trying to grab something. Pacifica looked to the hand then back to Dipper, having an odd expression on her face. It wasn't until he spoke that she understood what he was doing. He sighed, his gaze still away from her, looking in the opposite direction. "….Give me the signs." He finally said, offering a hand to help her hang them.  
Pacifica's eyes lit up with joy, not wasting a second to shove the boards into his open arms. Dipper grunted, feeling the boards get quickly shoved into his grasp. "Come on! Let's get going!" Pacifica beamed. Dipper signed. Why did he ask her to give him the signs? Did he feel… bad for her? Or… Did he feel… something? Something weird? He did have an odd tingling feeling on his nose when he was with her. But, then again, it was allergy season.


	12. Sign Hanging

Dipper and Pacifica made their way around the forest, hanging the signs against each tree they found. The signs weren't heavy, a relief for Dipper as he tried to keep the boards from tumbling to the ground as he held them. Pacifica seemed unfazed by this, skipping around the forest to find the 'perfect' trees. The hammer swung loosely in her hand, her straight hair bouncing around behind her. This almost seemed to hypnotize Dipper. Not in a good way though. Her hair… The way it swung. It was so familiar. 'I feel like I've seen something like that before.' He thought to himself, keeping his eyes glued to the tips of her (Probably fake) blond hair. The way it flared at the tips. It moved with such calculation. It had an odd sway to it, almost like… fire. Dipper paused, the signs still in his hands, causing Pacifica to turn around in slight annoyance. "Hey!" She said, not trying to be rude. But, more so, demanding. Dipper didn't respond. His face showed nothing but being spaced out. This got Pacifica slightly worried, making her bite her lip. She walked up to his face, getting an inch or 2 away, and waved her hand in front of him. "Hey…" Pacifica said, sounding soft this time. She gave a sympathetic smile to him as she looked into his brown eyes. Strange… They almost seemed to have a tint of blue in them. Just as she spoke, Dipper gasped, snapping out of it. His once wide pupils shrunk, signifying his reconnection to reality. The blue that tinted his eyes seemed to disappear almost instantly and Pacifica decided to push the question to the back of her head.  
"Huh? Oh. Sorry. I was thinking." He said, trying not to sound worried or scared. Pacifica gave a slight Nod at his answer. It was partially a way or saying 'I believe you' and 'we can talk when you're ready to talk.' Dipper and Pacifica then continued walking, looking for a sturdy enough tree to place the plank of wood.  
Pacifica, seeing the sun start to set, looked down at Dipper's hands. Dread swept over them as they saw his hands still held one sign left. "Ugh! I don't even want to find a 'perfect' tree anymore! Let's just hang it!" She said, throwing her hands in the air. Dipper nodded weakly, tired from carrying the splinter-infested wood in his arms for what felt like a couple of hours. Pacifica scoped out the scene, quickly pointing out a thick tree to puncher a nail through. "There!" She said, almost as if she was a pirate searching for treasure. She raced to the tree, grabbing poor Dipper's arm in the process. Pacifica jumped energetically as they reached it, the roots of the tree big enough for someone to sit on. He looked at the roots temptingly, yearning to sit down for just a moment or two. Dipper had always been an insomniac. But this was the first time he actually felt like he could fall asleep right then and there. But, nonetheless, he stood still, waiting for Pacifica to finally take the last board.  
As she grabbed the nail, reeling the hammer back to strike it with the board, she felt a surge of power go through her. As she smashed the hammer against the nail, she and Dipper were met with a loud bang. The nail went past the tree, but it didn't sound like wood. They watched in surprise, seeing the tree spark and sputter out sparks like it was a machine. They were about to say something, only to hear another sound. Something opening. A trapdoor? They turned around, cautious of what they would see. Once they turned around, they were surprised to so an opening in the ground. A book, red and ripped, laid proudly in the slot. Pacifica's eyes instantly lit up, racing over to the space. "DIBS!" She shouted, quickly grabbing the book and bolting away. She turned, waving vigorously at him as she made her way towards what she thought was the exit. Dipper was shocked at this action, extending his hand out to grab her. "No! No! No! Wait!" He said. But it was too late. She was already out of sight. How could he be so stupid to let something so… IMPORTANT… get taken away from him? Even if it wasn't his. Stan had the second journal, Mabel and I had the 3rd journal, and now this girl had the first journal. And he let her get it before he could even comprehend what was going on. Stan was not going to be happy about this. And his carelessness definitely wouldn't go unpunished. "The journal…" He said. "Is in the hands of my crush?"


	13. The Book Thieves

Pacifica burst through the doors of the shack, excitement rushing through every ounce of her body. "I'm here!" She shouted, ready to show off the journal to everyone that crossed her path. "So what?" Pacifica turned around, not caring how rude the voice sounded, to see a red-headed emo. Her messy hair was pulled back into a pony tail, baby hairs sticking out the sides of her scalp. Her eyeliner ran down her cheeks, as if she purposely wanted to look like she had been crying. She wore a black hoody, a melting ice cube symbol visible on it. Pacifica looked at her questionably, seeing her feet propped up on the cash register. "Oh. Hi! I'm Paci-"Pacifica started, only to have the red-head cut her off with a simple hand in the air. "Stop. I've heard enough. I don't know how 'so what' sounds like I said tell me about yourself. Just- buy something or whatever. K?" The girl said rudely, looking down at her phone. Pacifica was fazed by this for a moment, only to look down at her hands and see the journal. Giddy joy began to build up in her once again, as she tried her best to keep a positive attitude. "Well, actually, I'm not a costumer." Pacifica said, feeling slight pride for some reason. "Oh? Then get out." She snapped back, chuckling slyly to herself. "Actually, I work here now." This caught the girl by surprise, making her look up from her phone. She examined the girl. Blond hair, blue eyes, ripped up muddy pink jacket. The girl only snickered at her appearance, seeing how foolish she looked. "Ease up on that jacket, o.k.? You look like a bum with a life supply of bleach." With that, the girl lost it. She burst out laughing, leaning over the cash register uncontrollably as she began to slam the counter.  
Pacifica let out a loud 'humph', feeling slightly embarrassed. "What do you know?" She asked, but it was no use. The girl was going crazy, laughing hysterically. Pacifica's face grew red, embarrassment beginning to flood though her. She didn't really feel like being around her anymore. So, she went upstairs, stomping with every step. She wasn't familiarized with the place very much, so she just opened the first room she saw. "Huh? Oh. Pacifica." Said Gideon, looking slightly annoyed with her arrival. "Sorry. I was just looking for a quiet place to- Whatever." Pacifica shrugged. She was about to turn around, only for Gideon to catch a glimpse of something… important. "WAIT!" Gideon shrieked, tumbling out of bed. Pacifica seemed surprised, seeing Gideon race to his feet. "You- Journal…" Gideon stated, pointing to her hands. Pacifica looked down, seeing the dusty book and wondering "Why do you care? How do you even know about this book? I just found it in the woods." Gideon seemed surprised by her response. "You don't know what this is? Wait. Let me stop you there. Of course you don't." Pacifica nodded, feeling just as stupid now as she did before. "It- It's hard to explain. But, keep that book out of sight, o.k.? It's very important that no one gets ahold of that journal. Especially the Pines twins." Gideon said. Pacifica cocked her eyebrow up in confusion, not understanding what was so bad about them.  
"Pines? Like, Dipper Pines maybe?" Pacifica asked, hoping he meant someone else. But, from the expression Gideon gave her, she wouldn't be so sure. "You know them?!" He asked, trying to keep his scream at a whisper. "Yah. Dipper was really nice." She beamed, a slight tint of red on her cheeks from thinking about his face. He was so… Cute, to say the least. "Dipper?! No! No! No! He's the worst of the two! You have no idea of what he's been accused of!" Gideon exclaimed, trying to convince her. "Accused? As in, they don't know for sure?" Pacifica looked at Gideon, a look of disbelief on her face. Gideon's mouth opened wide, surprise visible on his face. "Yes! Accused! Meaning that someone had REASON to accuse him! This kid's been accused of murder on several accounts! You need to stay away from them! Both of them!" He said, hoping she would listen. "Oh, Gid-Gid." She said, putting her arm around his shoulder. "Don't call me Gid-Gid." He retorted, moving her arm away from him. Pacifica rolled her eyes at his response, giving a slight chuckle afterwards. "Gideon. Do you have any proof of him killing anyone?" She asked, still not convinced. "Well, only once or twice. When I went to their show." Gideon stated, tapping his chin in thought. Pacifica instantly gasped. "He-I mean, they put on shows?! What kind of shows?" Pacifica asked, a deep red blush forming on her face as she thought 'what' the shows could be.  
"Eh. It's just magic tricks." He said, shrugging his shoulders. "Woah…. MAGIC… Where is it?" She asked, putting her hands to her cheeks in wonder. Gideon's ears perked up from this question, sweat beginning to form. "NO! We are not going!" He stated nervously. "We? Perfect! I get to see Dipper- I mean them preform a magic show and you can prove to everyone that they're murderers… Or that you're a complete nut job." She stated, saying the last part out the side of her mouth, hoping he wouldn't hear her. Gideon crossed his arms at this action, feeling completely offended. "No! There is no way! In a million years! I will ever! Ever-"  
"Go to a Pines show again…" Gideon sighed, walking with Pacifica to the entrance of the tent. "Oh! Cool!" She said, amazement painted all over her face as she and Gideon walked to the front of the tent. "Step right up folks! Be amazed to see… AMAZING things… And- uh- stuff." Said an old man holding a sack. The sack was very odd though. It had a triangle with a tear in the center of it imprinted on the front of it. Pacifica walked up to the man, being oddly drawn to the sack. "Hello! I'm Pacifica! What is the sack for mister?" She asked, poking her finger at it, mesmerized by the sign that was on the front. The man smirked evilly, seeing the chance to make another buck or two. "It's the mysterious sack of mystery! Put your money in it and watch it disappear!" He said, shaking the back around her face. She giggled with glee, putting every nickel she had into the sack, making the bag far heavier. "Enjoy the show!" He said, calling to her racing figure as she rushed to the first seats she found. Gideon sighed, pulling out his wallet and plucking out 5 dollars. He dumped the money in the bag reluctantly, grumbling as he began to walk into the tent. "5 bucks? That's it? I hope the twins pick you for the disappearing act." The man grumbled harshly, making Gideon look back with worry. What's so bad about the 'disappearing' act? Well, it's not exactly called the reappearing act. That thought made his stomach tighten in nervousness.  
He looked around the room, soon finding Pacifica, having saved a seat for him. "You saved me a spot?" He asked, sitting down questionably. "Of course! You're here because I dragged you here! Now sit down! The shows about to start." She said, shushing him. Gideon squinted at the front, being the fact that they were all the way at the back. He was lucky she had saved him a seat, because the place was completely packed with people. A shiver went down his spine, hearing the most feminine voice ever. "Ladies and gentlemen! Please put your hands together for yours truly… MABEL PINES!" With that, a girl appeared out of nowhere, smoke forming around her form. "And… MY brother! Dipper Pines!" She said, gesturing to her side, a tall brunette appearing from smoke. The crowd let out a loud roar of applause, except for Gideon who was still very skeptical. Pacifica, on the other hand, was applauding louder than anyone.


	14. Pacifica's Magical Evening

Pacifica watched in awe, waiting for something, anything, to happen. Once the applause died down, the room was silent, waiting just as much as she was to hear what they had to say. Dipper looked to Mabel, a plane face visible on his glowing complexion. As his mouth opened, sucking in a sip of air, the crowd leaned forward in excitement, waiting to hear what he had to say. Just as he did it, Mabel did the same, opening her mouth to speak. And, at the same time, they raised there corresponding hands in the air, white doves flying from behind them. "Welcome to the tent of telepathy!" They said in unison, earning a burst of applause once more. Gideon rolled his eyes, obviously bored by the show. "Are we going to see some magic or are they just on stage for applause?" Gideon asked, crossing his arms in skepticism. Pacifica looked at him for a second, squinted eyes, only to turn back in excitement. "Thank you! Thank you! It's such a joy to have so many patient and loving fans!" Mabel said, looking at the crowd. "But, I suppose, we aren't up here just for applause." Dipper stated, looking straight at Gideon. Everyone turned their heads, giggling and whispering about him, making Gideon flush with embarrassment. He hadn't been aware that everyone was able to hear what he had said. Especially the twins.  
"To begin the act, we'll need a volunteer." Dipper stated, taking a step into the spotlight and looking for any raised hands. "Yes. Someone optimistic. Someone brave. Someone…" Mabel stated, pointing around the room to find the perfect person for it. The twins scanned the room, seeing nothing but an ocean of hands bobbing up and down in utmost excitement, trying to become visible to them. Dipper squinted his eyes, looking to the very back where that skeptical chubby kid sat, only to hear a familiar voice. Not too familiar, but familiar enough for him to be able to pick it out. He looked at the owner of the voice, seeing none other than a girl. Bleach blond hair, pony tail, raggedy jacket dripping with pink and sparkles, rainbow colored braces, and bright blue eyes. A mischievous smile grew on his face, looking at the girl as she strained to receive some attention, only for the hand to lower to her side in defeat. "Oh, forget it. He probably can't even see me, nonetheless remember me." Pacifica said, sighing in defeat. "You…" Dipper's cold voice echoed through the room, sending chills down Pacifica's spine. Pacifica spun around on her heels, only to be met face to face with Dipper. She realized she was no longer at the very back of the room, but on the stage.  
She gasped, not remembering even walking in his direction, looking into his… blue eyes? "W-what? How did I-"She was cut off, only to turn around and be met with a crowd of people cheering in amazement and surprise. She took a step back, racking her brain with information that could help her figure this out. Nothing. She was completely confused. She looked at Dipper, realizing he was holder her hand, a slight smirk plastered on his face as he gave her a side glance. Pacifica blushed, snapping her hand away from his the second she realized what had happened. Dipper's smirk instantly turned into a plane face again, making Pacifica feel bad. She then turned her head to Mabel, seeing her toothy grin. But, when she looked closer, she realized how unhappy she looked. Not like she was sad or lonely. More like she was burning with anger and hatred. "Well…" Mabel started through gritted teeth. "Give it up for Pacifica…" She said, a twitch in her right eye as she looked at her. Pacifica's ears perked up, turning her head in Mabel's direction. Pacifica had never told Mabel her name. Never ever in her life! "To begin this act, I'd like to ask the… lovely Pacifica to step into the box of mystery." She said, trying to pull a happy face, only to come off as insane. The crowd didn't seem to notice though, letting out an 'Ooo' in amazement.  
Dipper gave her his hand, leading her to a box in the center of the room. Pacifica got inside, a questioning look on her face. As Dipper looked at her one last time, about to close the box door, he gave her a sympathetic look. "Sorry about this…" Dipper whispered to her, making her eyes widen in fear. What did he mean sorry? She gulped, hearing Mabel's muffled voice on the other side of the box. "People. If you appear to be over the age of 50 or have a weak heart, I suggest you leave immediately." Mabel's voice said, echoing through the room with a dark aura. Pacifica put her hands on the box walls, feeling as if they were closing in on her. She began to hyperventilate, only to be met with a sharp pain in her right side. She looked down, only to let out a shriek of agony to see a sword go straight through her torso. She grabbed at the sword, wanting so badly to just pull it out. But, she quickly realized, every time she even touched the sword, her stomach appeared to burn with pain. She pushed against the door, only to be met with the clanging on chains rubbing against each other. They had chained the box shut.  
She pressed her palms against the door of the box in defeat, only to have several other swords burst through the entrance of it. Her neck, stuffed with swords, letting her dangle as her legs went weak and her soul left her body. The door of the box opened, making many gasp and scream in disgust and fear. The twins smirked though, rolling their eyes at what seemed like an over-reaction. The twins closed the door of the box, about to speak, only to be met with the voice of a sobbing child. "Pacifica!" Said the voice. A chubby boy waddled up to the stage of the magicians, banging his fists on the wooded floors. "You- you MONSTERS!" He said. He tried his best to crawl up the stage without using the steps, only to fall flat on his butt. He groaned, tears rolling down his cheeks. Mabel, surprised by his response, flouted off the stage, meeting Gideon's eye level. She took his head, his chin resting in her palm, making him look up. "You really need to watch the rest of the show." She said with a cool voice. She stood up, giving her hand to him with a sweet smile. Gideon narrowed his eyes at her though, not wanting to so much as touch her. He stood up from his fallen position, his chubby hands balled up in anguish.  
"I don't see why I'd watch a show about murderers." Gideon spat, making Dipper's face morph. He no longer had an emotionless look on his face. He had a hurt look. He looked down at his hand, seeing a sword clenched in his fist, only to look back up at the crowd, journal number 3 held up to his face. Gideon's eyes widened. He had never seen the 3rd journal in his life. He had wanted nothing more than to get a glimpse of it, and he would have sold his soul just to look at it. And, it so happened, all he had to do was pay an entrance fee of 5 dollars. The room went silent at this action, holding their breaths to see the outcome. "مع قوة هذه المجلة" Dipper started, reading the words on the page. His eyes began to glow blue, pebbles and dirt beginning to vibrate off of the ground, lifting into the sky. The lights in the room flickered on and off, making people huddle together in safety. Gideon looked to Pacifica's unmoving form, seeing it begin to levitate in the air. Her body, floating just above Dipper's head, began to glow where her wounds where. The cuts and scars on her neck, instantly poofing away to reveal her soft skin repaired. The room grew louder, Pacifica's body still floating in the air, as Dipper continued. "ترجع الروح إلى هذا المجال" Dipper finally said.  
With that, Pacifica's eyes let out a burst of light, blinding everyone. Pacifica gave a gasp of air, opening her eyes as she clenched her throat to reassure herself of life. She looked down…only to see everyone looking up? The second she realized this, she began to fall. "Ah!" She said, realizing how close she was to hitting the ground. But it never came. Her squinted shut eyes peeked open, revealing a certain handsome devil holding her in his arms. The room burst into applause and amazing screams of praise. "Give it up for Pacifica people!" Mabel said, pointing to Pacifica's figure, still squished up against Dipper's slightly toned form. Dipper, with Pacifica still in his arms, bent his head down, his breath against her neck, sending shivers down her spine. He inched his mouth towards her ears, giving her arms a weak feeling. He sighed into her ear, resting his head up against hers as he leaned up into her ear. "I'm so… so... Sorry."


	15. Sneaking out

Dipper dropped Pacifica from his arms, causing her to stumble. She looked at him, breathing heavily from her death experience as his eyes turned brown again. She backed up, moving off the stage while still looking at him. What… just happened? She was dead. Right? Or was that part of the trick too? It must have been, or else someone would have sued their amulets off. Pacifica let out a shaky breath, trying to speak in a brave manor. "N-nice trick… Dipper." She said, fear and confusion burning its way through her words. Dipper instantly noticed this, trying not to look upset as she made her way off the stage. "Yes! Yes! Great job brother of mine! Isn't he just wonderful with magic?" Mabel said with the microphone, seeing how awkward the situation was for him, trying to lighten the mood. No one else seemed to be fazed by his performance though, thinking it was all part of the act. Pacifica got off the stage, walking up next to Gideon with a forced smile on her face as she looked up at Dipper again. "Thank you… for inviting me to the show… But I think it's time for me to go home… I'll see you later Dipper." Pacifica said, grabbing Gideon's hand as she marched out of the tent. The room was silent for a moment, only for a loud applause to break out through the crowd.  
Dipper and Mabel bowed, accepting the applause and praise that the audience gave them. But Dipper? He honestly didn't feel like he deserved the praise. The town was full of idiots. They didn't know she was actually dead at one point. Had they? Or were they just as sadistic as he was, knowing they had punctured her skin and stopped her heart from beating? Dipper sighed, getting off the stage, into his dressing room, as the audience flooded out of the tent. He turned to Mabel, seeing the angry yet worried look on her face. "Dipper!" She began, only to calm down and sigh as she saw how unaffected he seemed by her yelling. "What were you thinking?" Mabel asked in a whispering tone, putting her hands on his shoulders. Dipper shrugged, looking down at the floor, shuffling his feet like a child. "Dipper… You know we're not supposed to mess with the act- We needed her spirit for-"Dipper cut Mabel off, looking up at her as he took her hands off his shoulders. "I know. I know. It's just- Do we really need her soul?" Dipper asked, raising an eyebrow to her. "Yes! Yes we do!" She replied, a slight laugh in her voice. "Dipper. You just met this girl! Why is she so important?" She asked, giving a questioning look. Dipper looked at Mabel's worried face, smirking at the sight. "Ha. Me? What about you and that chubby kid? You really want to tell me you didn't jeopardize the mission in any way with your little act of kindness?" Dipper chuckled, making sure to maintain his perfect posture as he straightened himself up.  
Mabel blushed, balling up her fists as her face burned. "It's different for girls!" Mabel argued, trying to turn the argument back on him. "Sure. I'll believe you if you drop the subject about Pacifica." Dipper shot at her, giving a victorious grin. "No." Dipper was caught by surprise with her statement. "In fact, I'm going to ask him out on a DATE." She said, looking at him proudly. Dipper cocked his eyebrow up, not believing a word she said. "Yah right. Like you'd ever-"He started, only for Mabel to cut him off. "Wanna bet?" Dipper smiled, putting his hand out to her. "Alright. Deal. He says yes, you can tease me as much as you want about Pacifica. But if I win, you can't see a chubby kid anymore." Mabel hesitated for a moment, knowing that he never backed down from his side of a deal. EVER. But, what were the chances that ANY guy would say no to her? "Ha! Deal. Get ready to eat your words brother." Mabel said, smacking her hand against his, latching onto it as she stared venom into his eyes. "Alright. Let's go then." Dipper said, letting go of his sister's hand, causing Mabel to step back in surprise. "Wait. Right now?!" She asked, shocked by his statement. "B-but Stan's taking us home right now. How are we supposed to get passed him? He'll know we left if we're not here." She said, making Dipper give a smug look. "Then we'll sneak out." Dipper said simply, shrugging his shoulders with his arms crossed. Mabel let out a slight laugh in disbelief. "Dipper. We haven't done that since we were, like, 12. You remember why we stopped, right?" Mabel asked, giving Dipper a sympathetic look. "Dipper. If Stan catches us-"Mabel began, only to have Dipper stop her. "It'll be fine sister. Unless you're chicken." Mabel narrowed her eyes, once more balling her fists up. "In your dreams."  
~2 Hours~  
Dipper looked out the window of their mansion, scoping out the scenario. Nothing. No guards, no attack dogs, no Stan. "O.k. I think we're good." Dipper said in a whispering tone, giving Mabel the signal. Dipper took in a deep breath, backing up to the other side of the room. "Oh? Look whose chicken now." Mabel said, chuckling to herself at her brother's cowardly action. "Still you." Dipper said in an emotionless tone, running towards the window. Mabel was surprised, seeing Dipper jump through the window, tumble to the ground, and stand up perfectly fine. He looked up at Mabel, still emotionless. "O.k. Your turn." He lifted his arms up, ready to catch her. "Is this safe?!" Mabel yelled down to him, not caring if someone caught her. She was actually kind of hoping someone would catch them, meaning she wouldn't have to go through with it. "Come on alpha twin. Are you the chicken twin now, or what?" Dipper teased, making Mabel blush in embarrassment. "No!" I'm just- hold on." Mabel said, moving away from the window. It was quiet for a moment, only for Mabel to come jumping out the window, her form flailing through the air. Dipper watched in awe, backing up as he tried his best to stay under neither her, about to catch her. Dipper had to replace himself several times, only for her to land right in his arms, the force causing him to fall flat onto the grass. Dipper groaned, closing his eyes, feeling the pain. "Bad idea…" He hissed, seeing Mabel laying on his stomach, she too in slight pain. She groaned as well, only to begin to laugh. "Oh…My…God!" She said, clenching her stomach in complete laughter. A tear ran down her cheek. Partially from pain. Partially from laughter. Dipper looked at her, his face composed of confusion, until he began to laugh as well. They got up, stretching themselves out to relieve themselves of the tension in their stiff muscles.  
"So, where does this kid live?" Dipper asked, a slight laugh still flowing through his voice. Mabel paused, relieving something. "I- Don't know…" She said, slapping her forehead in realization. "Ugh! All that work for nothing! THAT'S JUST-"Dipper cupped his hand over her mouth, keeping her from getting them caught. Dipper loved his sister with all his might, but there was one thing he knew about her that made her unbearable at times. Her temper. Dipper had learned at a small age how to compose himself. But Mabel was still struggling, throwing tantrums, fits, and just about anything she could get her hands on when she was upset. Granted, she could also be very sweet and loving, but she could also be incredibly rash and quick to fire something back. Sometimes literally. "Quiet sister. I know where Pacifica lives. She was with the boy. She must know where he lives as well." Dipper said, removing his hand from her mouth. "I don't think so." Said a voice from behind them. They turned around in shock, seeing none other than Stan standing right in front of them.


	16. A little Talk with Stan

"Stan…" Mabel said, a little taken back by his sudden appearance. "What? You think I couldn't hear you outside my window screaming at each other?!" Stan asked, emphasizing how loud they were being. "I-I-"Mabel began, only to have Dipper butt in. "Why are you concerned about such useless attempts at simply visiting a friend?" Dipper asked properly, acting highly civilized. Stan furrowed his brow at him, grabbing him firmly by the shoulder, forcing him to look straight into his eyes. He shook Dipper's shoulders roughly, only for Dipper to keep a straight face. "Because… I'm your legal guardian." He replied, giving Dipper the evil eye. "If I do say so myself, you're not doing such a good job." Dipper replied, making Stan furious. "Shut your mouth you ungrateful little brat! I took you out of the homeless shelters!" Stan argued. "Maybe we would have been better there." Dipper stated promptly, causing Stan to widen his eyes. "I think it's time me and you had a little talk about respect." He said simply. Stan grabbed Dipper by the wrist, into the mansion and into his room. As he closed the door, Dipper caught a glimpse of Mabel's worried face, a tear about to fall down her cheek. 'I'll be fine.' Dipper mouthed the words, the door merely a crack open before it was fully shut. Mabel looked at the door, despair filling her. This was the same thing that happened when they got caught as little kids. Mabel sighed, looking at the closed door. As she pressed her fingers against the wooden doors, she felt a slight shake erupt through the door. She pressed her ear up against the door, hearing slight sounds of crashes to the floor and glass shattering from what sounded like a struggle or two. Mabel pressed her forehead up against the door, turning around as she slid her back down to the floor. "Dipper… Always getting in trouble…"  
~At the Shack~  
"YOU DID WHAT BOY?!" Bud shouted at Gideon, making him shake in slight nervousness. "Dad. I know. I know. It's just-"Gideon began, only for Pacifica to cut in. "It was my idea! Blame me! I forced him to show me the tent. He didn't do anything wrong!" Pacifica protested, earning a raised eyebrow from Bud in surprise. "Oh? Is that so? Well, I guess it's not Gideon who deserves a punishment, now is it?" Bud asked, pacing around Pacifica as if he was a shark. Pacifica shook her head with joy, seeing that Bud wasn't going to punish Gideon. "No sir! He doesn't!" She said, feeling very happy she had gotten him out of his little pickle. "Yes. You're the one who should be punished." He said. Pacifica's mouth dropped open at his statement, making her eye twitch in anger and confusion. "WHAT?! He's the one who brought me to the tent though!" Pacifica stated, gesturing to Gideon. "I thought you were trying to help!" He shot at her, shoving her shoulder. "Sorry Gid. It's a dog eat dog world." "Enough chit chat. Pacifica. You say that Gideon wasn't responsible. So, it's your fault. I could send you home to have your parents deal with you… But… I've always wanted to use unpaid child labor…" Bud said, rubbing his chin. "Wait… What?!" Bud snapped his fingers, almost as an 'aha moment'. "It's settled. From now on, you'll be an unpaid worker for your punishment."  
Pacifica jumped, completely surprised by this statement. "But I-"She began. Bud wouldn't have it though. "No buts except for your upstairs. You've got a long unpaid day ahead of you tomorrow." He said, making sure to emphasize the unpaid part. He chuckled to himself at his joke, watching the kids make their way up the stairs. Pacifica jumped into her bed, grumbling to herself slightly. "Stupid Bud. Stupid Gideon. Stupid Mabel. Stupid Di-"Pacifica stopped herself. She didn't want to drag Dipper into her sour mood. He hadn't done anything to her. Well, actually, he had. But he fixed it, right? He had made it all better. She was still fine. She was still breathing. But for how long? She hadn't known him for a whole day and he had already ended her life by his own hands. He had also brought her back though. He cared enough about her to break his back for her. Correct? Or did he care enough about his reputation to break his back? Pacifica sighed, lying flat on her back, staring at the ceiling. "Do I really want to kill myself over some guy?" She asked herself aloud. "Psh. Please. It's not like I'm in love with him or anything. I mean, it's not like I'm laying away at night thinking about him." Pacifica chuckled to herself, only to look over to her alarm clock and see it said 2:34 AM. "How long have I been lying here thinking about him?" She asked, once more allowed.  
"O.k. So maybe I've been thinking about Dipper for a couple of… hours. That doesn't mean anything… Right?" Pacifica turned to her right, facing a stuffed dolphin with a bow tie. She paused for a moment, only to grab the dolphin by the blow hole in anger. "I'm not in denial! YOU ARE!" With that, she flung the dolphin out of the window, only to rush up to the opening in realization. "President Porpoise!" She said, reaching her arm out, seeing the dolphin hit the ground in what felt like slow motion. Pacifica began to hyperventilate. That dolphin was given to her the day after she was born. She looked around the room, seeing her shoes by her bed. She quickly snatched them, slipping them on as she made her way outside to where her stuffed animal was. But, as she opened the door, she didn't see it anywhere. She shifted her head to the left. Nothing. The right? Nothing as well. But she then looked ahead of her, seeing what looked like a blue string had snagged onto a twig. The thread was attached to the stick, only for it to continue into the woods. Something had taken her stuffed dolphin. And, whoever they were, whatever it was, they were gonna pay. As she began to walk through the forest, following the string that seemed to go on forever, she heard something. A grunt of anger. A couple of thumps of what sounded like fists against wood.  
Pacifica narrowed her eyes. Who, in their right mind, would be out in the forest at 2:30 AM? And, before you say anything, Pacifica was not in her right mind. She questioned herself, not sure if she should investigate the noise or not. She looked at the path that had the string. Then she looked at the path that seemed to have the sound coming from it. As she bit her nails, she sighed. "Of course I am." She said to herself, feeling incredibly dumb. As she made her way towards the noise, like an idiot, her brain made its new priority thinking up the worst possible scenarios that sound could be. So far, she had monsters, rapists, and wild animals. As she made her way up to the sound, she noticed the silhouette of a man behind a tree. Yup. Rapist. She turned around, trying to be as quiet as possible so she wasn't detected, only to trip over the string she had previously been following and face planted into the dirt. She groaned, lifting her head up off the ground. Something clicked with her though. She didn't hear the sound any more. It had stopped the second she had tripped. It had stopped the second… the silhouette knew it wasn't alone. She let out a shallow breath, slowly turning her head to look behind her. In all of her horror, she saw the same shadow of whoever was behind that tree. She was about to scream, only for the figure to squat down to her level and cover her mouth with his hand. Pacifica squinted her eyes shut, only to open them and realize who it was. "Good evening, Miss Southeast." Dipper said, a bored look on his face.


	17. Dipper's Side

Pacifica scooted back, still lying on the ground, trying to process what just happened. "W- Dipper?! What are you doing here?!" She asked, completely surprised by his appearance. "Just… walking." He replied, completely lying to her.  
~1 hour earlier~  
Stan paced around the room, cooling down after him and Dipper's "talk" about respect. He stroked his chin, thinking about what Dipper's punishment should be while Dipper sat on the floor, holding his arm as the bruises began to swell. "Dipper. You disobeyed me and brought Mabel into your little situation. You need to be punished." Stan said. Dipper coked his eyebrow up, questioning his gruncle's logic. "I thought this was my punishment." Dipper said, slightly annoyed. Stan furrowed his brow at Dipper's tone, getting closer to his face. "I need something. You not only tried to sneak out, but you also jeopardized the act. I needed her soul Dipper! You know that!" Stan shouted angrily, balling up his fists with frustration. Dipper didn't seem fazed by this though, knowing Stan always found a way to get something extra. He was a con man after all. Even with all of his riches, he still enjoyed lying to people for his own benefit. "What do you need from me then?" He asked. Stan smiled, giving a slight chuckle. "Well, I suppose I could take your soul." He replied, making Dipper stiffen up. He started to get nervous, swallowing hard as his throat became dry. Stan grinned at this sight, baring his bright yellow teeth, and ruffled Dipper's hair harshly. "But we wouldn't want that, now would we?" He asked, Dipper giving a shy shake of the head.  
"The potion I need for my spell requires a strong soul. I want you to go out into the forest and find me a strong soul." Stan said, slight fear visible in his voice. As if he needed it more than anything. "Fine. I guess I could shoot down a fairy or net a mermaid." Dipper said simply, standing up and dusting himself off. Stan chuckled at his statement, earning a confused look from Dipper. "No. No. No. I need a strong soul." He began. He looked at the hidden pocket inside Dipper's cape, seeing the journal sticking out slightly. Stan had allowed Dipper to keep it. It was one of the only friendly gestures he had ever made to him. Stan took the journal from Dipper's pocket, flipping to a certain page. "Yes… Perfect…" Stan said, turning the journal to face Dipper, a giant beast visible on the paper. "I know the perfect soul for my spell. Bring me the soul of the Gremlobin. Now." He said, nothing but demand in his voice. "What…" Dipper asked, completely shocked. Dipper backed up, his back hitting the door as his hand searched nervously for the door knob, still facing Stan. "Hey. It's either his soul or yours." Stan said coldly. Dipper began to breathe heavily, finally finding the door knob. He swung open the door, dashing up the stairs of the mansion to his room. Mabel was surprised to see Dipper look so nervous. "Dipper! Brother! What is wrong brother?" She asked in a sweet tone, worry sprinkled over her expression. Dipper sighed, not saying a word. He walked over to his bed, looking under it to see all of his weapons. A sword, a mace, a flame thrower, and just about every weapon he didn't have a permit to use.  
He weighed his options, picking up the sword in one hand and the mace in the other. "Mabel… Sword… or…. Mace…?" He asked, thinking heavily. "Dipper! What are you doing? Mace! Obviously!"  
Dipper chuckled, putting the sword down to hold up the mace in victory. "Of course! It's perfect!" He said, Mabel looking at him like he was crazy. "Dipper. What's going on?" She asked, watching Dipper put his right foot on the platform of the window, about to lunge himself out. "I'll be back in about an hour or so… Or not." He finally said, jumping through the window once more, this time to be stopped by no one. He looked up at his sister, shock plastered on her face. "I'll be fine!" He shouted up at her, knowing Stan wouldn't stop him from leaving this time. Mabel sighed, moving away from the window as her brother disappeared into the forest. "I hope so…"  
~1 hour later~  
Dipper sat in the forest, anger finally flowing through him. It was dark. He was tired. Not that he wasn't used to that yet though. If he was tired, he'd still stay awake for at least 3 more hours before he could rest. Nonetheless, he hated being in the woods, looking for some beast that could tear him apart in seconds. "Stan!" Dipper finally shouted, banging his fist against a tree in frustration. He grunted, breathing heavily as he stomped around in the dirt. This was one of the first times in years he had thrown suck an anger filled tantrum. The last time he did something like this, he was 9. He took his mace, hitting it perfectly in the center of the tree, hearing it crack under the presser of the metal spikes. The tree didn't fall though. It was simply marked with indents of his spikes. Dipper calmed down at this site for some reason. "Stupid… tree…" Dipper said between pants. He slid down the tree, taking in a deep breath. As he began to stand up, he heard something. Like a thud. Or a crash. Or a trip. He poked his head up from over the tree, seeing a girl on the ground, groaning. He instantly knew who it was. He touched his amulet, teleporting over to her. He saw her face, full of fear, about to scream. Without thinking, he knelt down to her eye level, cupping his hand over her mouth, looking into her eyes. "Good evening, Miss Southeast."


	18. Poetry Palls (AKA Filler Chapter)

Dipper and Pacifica trudged through the forest, both looking for something. But, if they were looking for something different, why were they doing it together? Dipper thought about this multiple times, completely bewildered on his decision to stick with her. Pacifica didn't seem to mind it though, humming a simple tone to herself as she walked through the dark path. "So Dipper. We don't know each other very well, do we?" She asked, tiling her head to the side, giving Dipper a wide grin. Dipper looked behind him, seeing his mace drag heavily in his path. He hissed when he saw this. Not in pain. More like in a 'yah. Probably not' kind of way. "I think you would enjoy it far more if we didn't know much about each other, Miss Southeast." He stated. Pacifica looked confused at his statement. "Why do you keep calling me Southeast? I've heard you call me Pacifica before." Dipper didn't look at her, keeping his eyes on the path. But deep down, he wanted to tell her why. How he didn't want to get attached to her. How he didn't want to be in a relationship right now. How he had too much to think about. Stan, Mabel, the tent… He had too much on his plate to deal with a girlfriend. Or even a friend-friend.  
"It just seems more proper that way." Dipper said simply, avoiding the truth as much as he could. Pacifica smiled at his statement, finding it a good opportunity to tease him a little. "O.k. Pines!" She laughed, earning a slight side smirk from Dipper before it went back to his bored facial expression. Pacifica pouted at his actions, giving off a small sigh. "So… What do you like to do?" She asked lazily, trying to fill in the silence. Dipper sighed, trying to think of a hobby that didn't involve magic. If he said anything about magic, she might ask him to actually do some. And, in all honesty, he hated putting on shows for people. Especially when the show has to do with magic. Because, being the people the town's folk are, they'd always say stuff like 'I saw that' and 'FAKE', which always got him pissed. "Poetry." He finally said, shrugging his shoulders. Pacifica seemed to lighten up at his statement, happy to know they were getting somewhere. "Cool! Can you say something?" Pacifica asked, catching Dipper off guard. "What?" He asked, surprised Pacifica was calling him out on it. He didn't even enjoy reading poetry. How was he supposed to come up with something on the spot? THIS ISN'T 8 MILES! "No." Dipper replied, not bothering to even so much as give a reason. "What? Why not?!" Pacifica asked. "I'm not in the mood. Get me in the mood and I'll do it." Dipper said. Pacifica looked at him, a bored look on her face for once. "Come on Pines! Stop playing! Just say something!" She replied in annoyance. Dipper cringed at her words. 'Pines…" He thought to himself. It hurt a little to hear her say that. Mostly because, when he said that, it was to say 'We aren't anything other than friends.' Hearing it from her made him feel… unwanted. Maybe it was because he had used it on her like that. Maybe she was using the same tactic. But why would he care? Why would he bother to care about how she felt towards him? Unless…  
"Fine… I'll do it. On one condition…" He said lazily, earning a squeal from Pacifica's lips. "Yah! Anything!" She replied, getting close to his face, her eyes gleaming with excitement and joy. As she got closer though, she couldn't help but notice something. First off, Dipper looked adorable with his hair all messy. And second off, her breast were pressed up against his chest, meaning that their noses were almost touching. Which meant their… food holes were also almost touching. She noticed this, not bothering to move though. She didn't want him to notice that she noticed how awkward their stance was. Dipper definitely noticed though, which made Pacifica notice that he noticed that she noticed… I think? Dipper took his hands, landing them on her shoulders, pushing her away from him as he rubbed his shoulder in awkwardness. "If you stop calling me Pines…" He began, looking back at Pacifica. "I'll say… Something…" He said finally. Pacifica smiled, putting a thumb up in the air to signify her agreement. "Deal… Dipper…" She said. Dipper looked at her, taking in a deep breath, thinking up what he was going to say. Nothing really came to mind so he just said the first words that popped into his head that made sense. "I- Uh…" He said weakly, swallowing hard to relieve himself of some of the stress. "Th-there is no way of knowing…" He began. "Just how fast I'm going… M-My life is quickly slowing. The faster that we are going." He paused, looking at Pacifica, seeing her content gaze. He sighed, continuing. "Because… everything I see… Is speedily slow-mowing. Like gray and black and blue and green… The colors fly by as I scream… My heart will pound… My eyes will burn. Everything that I have learned. It screams in pain. My brain will say… 'The pain is right inside my veins.' Into the night… 'Til dawn, I fight. Then, I will choose, left or right? Who are you to choose my fate? A-a fishing rod. I am the bait. But patiently here I wait. The night will call upon the day. And in that moment… I will know. Did fear leave? Or did it grow? My hands are bleeding from my wrath. It blinds my eyes. It covers my path. But angrily I drive this car… Never again will I drive so far…" Dipper finished, looking at Pacifica. Pacifica didn't say anything, not bothering to look at him. "What did you think?" He asked, knowing already how horrible it was. No response.  
She had a look on her face. It wasn't humorous, sad, or angry. It was more… frightened. Dipper looked at her, questions popping up in his head. He followed her gaze, noticing she was looking just above his head. As he turned around to find what she was looking at, he was met with none other than a… Gremloblin. "You didn't hear a word I said earlier, did you?" Dipper asked Pacifica, still face to face with the beast. Pacifica let out a slight grunt, supposedly meaning 'no.' Dipper gave a breath of relief at this knowledge, knowing he hadn't embarrassed himself in front of her. Ever though he was literary standing right in front of the beast that was going to dig their graves, he couldn't help but feel a slight weight lifted off his shoulders. "Southeast…" Dipper spoke out the side of his mouth. She didn't say anything, knowing if she spoke too loud the beast would most likely charge. "When I say 'go', you run for it. And don't look back." He said to her, making her look at him in surprise. "But-"Pacifica began, only to be interrupted by Dipper himself. "GO!" With that, Dipper broke into a run in the opposite direction, grabbing Pacifica's hand in the process. As they leapt through the forest, avoiding tree branches and rocks, Pacifica couldn't help but look back once or twice, seeing the best gallop towards them at full speed. "What do we do?! What do we do!?" She asked him, making Dipper even more stressed out than he already was. "If I knew, I'd tell you by now!" He replied, continuing to run through the forest, poor Pacifica trailing behind.


	19. Gremloblin Grumps

Dipper and Pacifica sped through the forest, hand in hand, sprinting across the land like they were jumping hurdles. Dipper made sure to keep his eyes open for any obstacles up ahead. Fallen trees, rocks, gnomes. He kept his eyes out for all of it. But what he should have been looking out for was Pacifica. "WAIT!" She shrieked, planting her feet to the ground, causing a slight dent in the dirt. Dipper spun around in fear, hearing the monster get closer and closer, facing Pacifica. "Southeast! What. Is. It?!" He asked, trying to be as quick as possible. Pacifica looked him in the eyes, putting her hands on his shoulders, pulling his body closer to hers, making him blush. "Dipper! Real talk! How do we know that thing's trying to kill us?" She asked him, wiggling her eyebrow. "Are you insane?!" He asked her, pushing her away from his face in anger. "Come on! We've got to get out of here! NOW!" He said to her, trying to be as quick as possible. "Dipper!" She began. "Southeast! It's hard enough to have to drag a mace around this blasted forest. I'm not going to start dragging you around as well!" He argued. Pacifica didn't budge though, hearing the monster get closer and closer. "Fine! Run off like a big baby if you want too. But I'm sticking around. We don't even know what it wants from us." She protested, turning in the direction of the monster, who had finally caught up to them. Fear suddenly overcame her, realizing that this night not have been a good idea. Nonetheless, she wasn't going to let Dipper know she thought he was right. "Hi there! I-I'm Pac-" And that was all she could say, before the Gremloblin bent down to her level, letting out the deepest, most horrifying roar ever heard by human ears. Pacifica didn't move though, her legs numbed from total fear. She looked into its eyes. A glowing aura filling its pupils.  
"SOUTHEAST! YOU IDIOT!" He shouted, grabbing Pacifica by the waste, pulling her out of sight of the monster. He picked her up, carrying her bridle style, the mace tucked under his left arm. Pacifica shook her head once she was out of view of the beast, coming back to her senses. "W-What happened?" She asked, looking up to Dipper for a response. He didn't though. He tightened his grip around her body, making sure she was being held properly, causing her to squish up against his body. Butterflies fluttered through her stomach, looking up at the rugged looking Dipper, holding her as they bolted away from the beast. Then, Dipper stopped, quickly sliding behind a tree like he was playing baseball. He heaved a sigh of relief, watching the monster rush past them, letting go of Pacifica tiredly. "D-do y-y-you still think it wa-nted to be out friend… or something?" Dipper asked, completely out of breath. Pacifica blushed once more, embarrassed by her actions. Of course it was trying to attack them. How could she be so stupid? She wasn't thinking straight. With her stuffed dolphin, president porpoise, missing and Dipper's hot pose, leaning up against the tree, she couldn't really concentrate on anything for long without her mind reverting back to either thought. She sighed, giving him a shake of the head in shame. Dipper smirked, seeing how she admitted to him being right. He loved being right. But then, why did he feel so… bad about being right? Seeing Pacifica so upset… It was odd. Unnatural even.  
"Southeast… I-"He began, only for his ears to perk up. He poked his head up from behind the tree, only to see the Gremloblin sitting on his own… laughing? Dipper put on a questioning look, not sure what the monster was doing, being the fact that it's back was facing him. So, Dipper did something incredibly stupid. Something even he had to admit was dumb. He took a small rock, and he threw it at the beast, causing it to stop laughing, and turn around in anger. Dipper ducked behind the tree once more, lucky to have done it just before the monster saw him. As dipper peeked his head up from behind the tree once more, this time much more carefully, he saw something in the creature's hand. It looked like… a ball of cotton swirled in blue yarn with a bowtie. "Southeast… What… is that?" Dipper asked, whispering as quietly as he could. Pacifica popped her head up, looking straight at the messy ball of yarn in the hands of the Gremloblin. Her eyes widened, seeing that, under the mess of cotton, was a bowtie sloppily clinging to the material. When the string of her dolphin had gotten snagged on by the twig, it must have started unraveling. That ball of yarn was no ball of yarn. That was president Porpoise! Pacifica let out a small gasp, cupping her hands over her mouth as she ducked down in disbelief, facing Dipper. "What? What is it Paz?" Dipper asked, using a nickname in substitute for her real name. He refused to call her 'Pacifica.'  
"It's-Its- President porpoise." She stuttered, causing Dipper to roll his eyes. "What? Is it your stuffed toy or something? How'd it get in the hands of that thing?" He asked, obviously fed up with this girl's carelessness. Pacifica looked at him, misty eyed. She sniffed, puckering out her lower lip towards him, giving him the best puppy eyes he'd ever seen. "*Sigh* Fine. I have a plan. But president porpoise's gonna need to help…"  
~15 minutes later~  
"You clear on the plan Paz?" He asked, causing Pacifica to give him a cheery thumbs up. "You got it dude!" She whisper-yelled. As she stood up from her crouched position behind the tree, she let out a sigh of relief, seeing the monster fast asleep… Cuddling her porpoise. Anger filled her for a moment, only to be quickly replaced by fear. "Dipper… How do I grab it? It's being squished by that- that-"Dipper rolled his eyes. "Gremloblin." He corrected her. "Whatever! How do I-"Dipper put his hand over her mouth once more, pressing her up against the tree. He put his finger on his lips, reminding her that they needed to be quiet. But, his actions only seemed to make her blush even more. "O-O.k. I'll be quiet." Pacifica said shyly. "Good girl." Dipper than moved away from her, looking back at the Gremloblin. "Now, if you're done complaining, just go sneak up on it and take it… Trust me. I've read on these things. They sleep like a bear hibernating." He reassured her, patting her on the back. Or, more so, just shoving her out of the comfort zone of the tree, into the grasp of the deadly creature. Pacifica stumbled slightly, quickly composing herself as she tip toed towards the beast. Her breath was heavy, making her way up to the monstrous… well, monster. As she got closer, her heart throbbing with fear, she couldn't help but look back at Dipper. If she messed this up, would he be mad?  
No. Now was not the time to think about this. She inched up to the beast, bending down and reaching to grab the small piece of fabric. Her heart leaped with adrenalin, the toy in her clutches, as she grabbed a piece of the string from her stuffed animal. As she took the end of the string, she continued by tying it to a branch of a tree. She began to run around the trees as quickly as she could, strings incasing the woods like a giant sweater. Once she was finished, she gave a thumbs up towards Dipper, smiling joyfully. Dipper gave a slight sigh, happy to know the plan had gone well. But, as Pacifica began to walk back towards Dipper, about to execute the second half of the plan, her foot snagged on the strings. As she face planted to the dirt, a loud thump echoing through the woods, the beast shot up, eyeing Pacifica. Pacifica screaming, covering her face as the beast began to charge for her. Dipper, on the other hand, just stood there, plain faced and bored. As the beast charged for her, claws shot out of his fingers, he suddenly stopped, tangled up in the strings as well. "Dumb animal." Dipper said, walking up to the beast. Pacifica furrowed her brow at his comment, feeling incredibly insulted. "Hey! I didn't see the string o.k.?" She argued. Dipper rolled his eyes at how naive she was, walking up to the entangled beast. "Not you Paz." He replied, although he was starting to agree with his earlier statement being pointed towards her.  
He took his mace, reeling it back, about to strike the beast. "Pacifica…" He began. Pacifica's eyes brightened up, seeing how he had called her by her first name this time. "Close your eyes." He finally said. Pacifica didn't understand what he was talking about, doing what he said anyways though. Once she closed her eyes, questions popping up in her head, she heard a pained cry from the beast, followed by the sickening sound of something cracking open. "Alright. Open them." As Pacifica opened her eyes sheepishly, she was horrified to see the monster's head split in two halves. "Dipper… What did you-"She began, only for Dipper to rush up to her face, her foot still tangled in the string. There they were once again, Pacifica on the floor after tripping and Dipper looking her straight in the eyes. "Dipper…" Pacifica began, only for Dipper to open his mouth. As he did, Pacifica noticed something different in his eyes. Once again, his brown eyes were now blue. "What are you doing?" She asked. Dipper didn't say anything. He just looked into her eyes, his mouth slightly open. He took in a deep breath, all of his movements slow and subtle. As he exhaled, a blue smoke escaped his lips, freaking her out a little. "What the…" She began, only to suddenly feel very… Sleepy. Her eye lids became heavy, her breath getting shorter, and seeing Dipper stand up from his crouched position. "By the time you wake, this night will seem like nothing more than just a nightmare…" He said. Pacifica lifted her hands up dreaming, trying to grab Dipper as she fell into the darkness of sleep. "More… like a dream…" She said, finally passing out. Dipper was shocked by her words, looking down at her passed out form. "Weirdo." He chuckled. He looked over to the monster, seeing its spirit flutter around in the air like a ghostly fire ball.  
Dipper walked up to the spirit, reaching into one of his hidden pockets in his cape. Once his hand had come out, he held what looked like a fireplace bellow. He put the nozzle of the bellow up to the spirit, sucking it in. Dipper sighed, completely exhausted. He put the bellow back into his hidden pocket, looking back over at Pacifica. "Great. Now I've gotta drag her." He complained lazily. As he picked her up, her form light in his arms, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked when she was resting. Dipper grunted though, shaking his head. "Get a hold of yourself Pines." He whispered to himself.  
~5 minutes later~  
He laid Pacifica down, finally safe and sound in her bed. He was about to leave, only to look back at her one last time. She looked just as tired as he was, if not more. She had helped him greatly, and that was a debt he couldn't repay with something as simple as tucking her in bed. He walked back over to her, his hand moving into his cape, reaching into one of his many hidden pockets. He sighed, pulling out a small daisy, placing it behind her ear. Once that was done, he bent down, pecking her on the cheek softly. "Good night… little daisy."  
~2 hours later~  
Dipper trudged up the steps of the mansion, opening the door to see nothing but a dark room. As he walking into the main hall, looking for Stan's room in the darkness, the lights suddenly turned on. "Where were you?" Said a feminine voice. Dipper turned around tiredly, not wanting to have this talk so late at night. "I was just out for a bit. But I'm back now." He responded. "Dipper! You can't just-"She began. "Sister, please." Let me rest." He asked angrily, grouchy from his tiring night. Mabel sighed, walking up the steps of the mansion, up to her room, slamming the door shut. Dipper walked up to Stan's door, expecting to find him fast asleep, only to have him swing the door open the second Dipper knocked. "Dipper! Did you bring it?!" He asked, clearly slightly drunk. "Yes. I did." He said, reaching into his pocket to pull out the bellow and hand it to Stan. "Finally!" Stan snacked the bellow from his hands, shutting the door in his face. "I have a bad feeling about this…"


	20. Worst Chapter Ever (Filler)

It was dark, blue triangular silhouettes dancing around in the background. Nothing seemed real at the moment, all thoughts of the night before non-existant. Only the sound of soft breathing filled the room. Mabel's. Not Dipper's. He had been holding his breath since he laid down. What was Stan planning? Why? What could the soul of such a beast bring? In his hands, nothing good. He contemplated asking Stan, quickly shaking the idiotic idea out of his head while he still had the ability to think without some throbing pain striking up in the back of his skull. Stan would probably have convinced him not to ask questions anyways, even if he hadn't already decided not to.  
There was still something strange about his atmosphere the other night that ticked him off though. His nervous glances, the shaking of his body, and his breath. Dipper had seen him drink, but not to the point where he could smell it even when the door was closed. He was trying... Trying to numb his brain. To forget something. Or maybe he was even more of a jerk, drinking and laughing as Dipper braved the beast on his own. "Prick." Dipper whispered under his breath, his theory leaning more towards the 'laughing-while-he-fought-off-a-dangerous-beast'. It was farely obvious that Stan didn't care about Dipper, but would that really just lead him to do something as extravagent as actually celebrate Dipper's possible demise?  
Dipper took in a deep breathe, trying, and failing, to loosen his muscles. He turned to see the ticking wooden clock in the corner of his room, surprisingly one of the things that had survived the fire of his old house as a child. 3:25 A.m. He heaved another sigh, obviously peeved. "Well that sucks." Dipper whispered under his breathe once more, maybe a little bit louder than he had thought. "What does?" Asked a gental voice. Dipper winced at the sleepy voice, cursing himself for disturbing her rest. "Nothing." Dipper replied softly back. "Go back to bed." His demands were ignored though, Mabel sitting up in her queen-sized bed, swinging her feet over the edge. "You're attempt at such a lie is insulting to me. Do you not know who I am? Your sister? The one which slept with you in the mother's womb and was the first to even speek to you? Do you truely believe I would be so quick as to turn on my side and erase your troubled face from my mind?" She asked, sounding even more lovely with every word.  
"Geez, oh sister-of-mine. Thou shalt sleep-ith. Thou-ith sound like a crack-head-ith Shakespear...ith. You always talk like that when you're tired." Dipper chuckled slightly, straining his eyes to see her pouting face in the darkness of the room. His eyes didn't seem to get a chance to adjust to the darkness in time though, Mabel clapping her hands. With the 2 soft, but firm, claps of her hands, the lights flashed on in a quick, blinding burst of electricity. Dipper didn't like that very much. "AH!" He hissed, pressing his palms roughly against the smooth, pale surface of his eyelids. He may have over-reacted though, rolling onto the floor in shock at the sudden light.  
"Don't be so dramatic brother, a little light never hurt anyone." Mabel said, rolling her eyes in smug annoyance. This only seemed to infuriate him more vigerously though. "At 3 in the flipping morning?!" He scream-whispered at her, his eye twitching and slightly red from the rubbing. Mabel's smug attiture seemed to dissolve quickly, seeing the seriousness in his tone and expression. "My apologies brother, I wasn't thinking." Mabel responded to his spite, earning yet another heaved sigh from the twin. "It's alright. Be more careful though, sister. Your nieve actions annoy me." The room became silent for a moment after that, Dipper's words seeping in. "I see..." Mabel said bitterly, a shamed, yet slightly angered, glance gracing her face in a flash of emotion. Dipper quickly realived his mistake as her expression became unpleasent. "It's not like that sister. I-" He bagan, only to be cut off. "No. No. No, Dipper! I know my clumsiness was... undisirable. You were in every way correct. Perhaps... An apology gift is in order." She pondered.  
"At 3 in the morning? Maybe you should wait. I'd rather not wake Stan." He responded, not wanting to take advantage of her generacity. She wasn't naturally generous, to be completely honest. She wasn't very apologetic either. And, if someone was willing to take the blame, she definitly wasn't the type to own up to something that was her fault. But, in a strange way, she had a natural tendency to think of Dipper before anyone else. Her thoughts always gravitated towards what he might think. Though she hated a wide verity of people, Dipper was an acception. If he wanted the moon, she'd find a way to give it to him. In a sick, twisted way, whenever she did something for him, she imagined it being done to herself. Like she had given half of her a birthday present, or baked the other half of her an apple pie. Dipper was half of her. Half Mabel-DNA, half Y chromizome.  
"Nonesense. I know just what you need to get you to bed." Mabel beamed, her eyes glissaning in the bright room. "Come out. Come out. My little blue bow tie." Mabel sang, her voice as distinct and chipper as a slaybell. Just as she spoke, the room seemed lighter, fuzzier, dissolved and replaced with some melted version of the original room. It only seemed to last a moment though, the room turning a tint of blue. There was a pause, silence filling the room with expectation and tension. That didn't seem to last long either, a tiny blue triangle no bigger than a basketball appearing in a flash of light. "Miss Pines." The triangle said in a slightly high piched, shakey voice. Mabel's beam seemed to dissolve, showing a more bussness-like appearence.  
"Master Dipper can't sleep. Bring him tea. Now." She said solumly, earing a questioning look from Dipper. She seemed questionably crabby all of the sudden. This defianetly earned a snap-react, Will swooshing to Mabel's side. "Right!" Will said, flying to the room, only to fly back quickly to her side once more. "Right..." Will said, giving what Mabel assumed was a wink. She seemed unamused with his words, rolling her eyes in annoyance.  
"I sware, he's the dumbest slave I've ever had. Remind me why we keep him." Mabel said, more of a demand than a request. "It was a deal. Pines don't break deals. Even with idiots like him. He may be a complete kitten when it comes to any form of actual... action, but he's got us bound to our word. Besides, he doesn't need to be a genious. All he does is pour tea and annoy you. Seems logical enough to keep him if you ask me." Dipper responded, earning a scowl from his twin. Though she seemed slightly pissed, Dipper had a sudden question pop up in his head, making him question who should really be offended. "What was up with all of that 'right' crap? Are you hiding something sister?" Dipper asked suddenly, shocked by his own thought.  
Mabel's eyes went wide with surprise, or perhaps guilt. "Brother! Do you make accusations against me? Your sister? The one you knew from birth. The one who-" Mabel stopped, seeing Dipper face. Not angry. Not sad. Worried. Worried what she might be hiding. "Do you honestly think I can't see it? You make it too obvious you're hiding something. Why else would you jump to guilt tripping so quickly? What have you hidden from me? Why, sister?" Dipper asked, suddenly comfuced. Mabel brushed the question aside though, trying to laugh it off. "Dipper. Don't be so mellow-dramatic. I'm mearly stating my case. That's all. No need to fret, brother. I wouldn't lie to you... unless it was for your own good." she whispered the last part, hoping he wouldn't hear it. But, of course, he did. He always heard her. He always heard everyone. How could he not? He always listened.  
"For my own good?" Dipper questioned, obviously angered by her words. But, before he could question matters further, Will was back. "Tea for the master. Will that be all Miss?" Will asked, his tiny white appren wrapped around his body, bits of lace stitched at the tips. "That shall be all Will. You're dismissed." She announced, reaching up to the floating triangle, lifting the delicate cup from it's silver platter. The demon-slave left, obviously alittle sad about her attitude and lack of thank you's. "Y-Your Wel-come..." He sniffed as he floated from the room. Mabel's beaming expression quickly returned, lifting the tea cup up to her brother's face, a few inches talled than her. "Drink brother. You need the rest." She smiled, making an attempt to press the glossy flower-print to his soft pink lips. He declined imetiatly though.  
"What does sleep have to do with tea?" Dipper questioned, an emotionless look smeared over his perfect complection. Mabel gulped, trying to compose herself in an attempt to continue to get him to drink it. "You're so paranoid. it's just some tea." She assured, once more lifting the tea to his lips. Once more, being declined by her clever brother. "I can drink by myself, Mabel." He snapped, whisking the cup away quickly, lifting it to his face. He looked at the dark formula, an overwhelming gust of rosemary, cinnamin, and chia filling his system. But there was something else. Something metalic. Something strong. Something... Chloroform. Dipper's eyes widened in surprise and disgust, realiving her plans.  
"I'm not a child Mabel. I don't need your help to sleep soundly." Dipper snapped, scowling down at the sickeningly sweet steam from the cup. "You're so rash sister. Why do you believe this is neccisary to get me to rest? I can close my eyes. See?" Dipper said, closing his eyes. "I can lay down. See?" He then asked, laying on the bed. "And I can sleep." He finished, placing the tea cup on his night stand. "Are you going to show me like you did the other 2?" Mabel asked, already knowing the answer. Dipper's eyes shot open, looking at her in annoyance. "That part takes time sister. You know that." He rationalized.  
Mabel wasn't very content with his response though, knowing he would be up all night, like he always was, filling his head with worry so that when he did sleep, he'd be screaming and crying and shreaking and begging when he woke. Like he always did. And she would be by his side, trying and failing to calm him, like she always did. So, she got with Will, planning an escape for him. Planning an escape for her. A way to get away. A night without bad dreams. Or, better yet, no dreams at all. And the answer was so simple it was almost too easy. And it was. Tea.  
"Brother. Please. Drink the tea. Sleep." Mabel said, a hint of pleading in her soft voice. Dipper propped himself up on his elbows, obviously critical. "I don't need your help Mabel. My sleep will come naturally. And, when it does, I'll sleep like a baby." Dipper asured. "Babies cry in the middle of the night, much like you, so I'm sure you won't have a problem fulfilling your promise." Mabel snapped back, arms crossed in a vain attempt to look smug, sturn, and wise. This seemed to strike a coard with him, not in a pleasant way though. "Why do you think you know what's best for me, you flipping child." Dipper spat through his teeth, grinding them together in fury. Mabel had always acted like mom. But she wasn't mom. She would never be mom. And he hated her sometimes because her attempts to try and be mom seemed like mocking her.  
"You pest. I won't drink your stinking tea and you can't make me. I'd rather be screaming all night than result to such a retarded idea, brat." He hissed with vemonous darts shooting her in the heart. Mabel stepped back, clenching her chest as if he had shot her in the heart. Her eyes seemed broken for a moment, a slight trickle of water inching out of the corner of her eye. His eyes widened suddenly, seeing how his actions had effected her. Without thinking, he bounced from him bed, lunging to her side.  
"Mabel... My apologies. I didn't mean it." Dipper said, whipping the tear from her eye in an instance. Her shoulders seemed to start bouncing as he said this though, as if his apology made it worse. "I really didn't mean it. It was stupid and rude and rash and selfish and-... Sorry..." Dipper said, sighing, stepping away from her. He looked at her for the longest time as she stood there, head hanging as her hair floud over her face in an almost sudistic manner. He hated seeing her look like this. It made him feel like a jerk. And... maybe he was... His eyes darted towards the tea cup, still steaming hot and sweet-sented. "God. I guess I'm just a sucker for tear-jerkers, aren't I?" Dipper asked, striding to his bed side, sitting down slowly.  
With one more heavy sigh, he lifted the cup, letting it raise to his plump lower lip as he gulped down every drop. "Night Mabel..." Dipper said, already feeling drowsy and kinda stiff. "Night brother."


	21. Gravity Girls (Or Mean Falls)

*Pacifica POV*  
"Wake up..." Called a far-off voice. I felt... weird. Like I was rocking on a boat but not sea sick. Or like my body was completely numb. Maybe both. It felt like that weird sensation of being in bed too long when you know you need to get up. Either way, I felt super weird. I felt like someone was poking my cheeks. No. PINCHING. "OW!" I shouted out as a shock of pain shot through my now-red cheek. "Get up!" Spat a semi-familiar voice. I groaned in realization, my head ripping away from the soft pillow to come face-to-face with Gi-dork. "Come on stupid! Get up before-" Gideon began. He didn't get much farther before I stuffed my pillow into his whale-sized mouth and jumped out of bed. "Is there a reason behind waking me at 8 in the morning?" I asked sourly. I didn't know why though. I was usually very refreshed in the mornings... Whatever. Gideon's probably just been using too much of his "charm" on me to handle. I felt like I needed to punch something. Preferably fat, slow, and within five feet. "Mff-mff-" Gideon began, spitting out the pillow quickly after. "My dad? You working here? Over the summer? Remember?" Gideon asked, rolling his eyes. My eye twitched in anger, not that he cared.  
"Yah. You should really get your butt down stairs before he brings HIS butt up here." That's it. I was about to loose my freaking MIND. He seriously thought he could tell me what to do? Let alone his FATHER? Please, I didn't even take my own father that seriously. Then again, they are hippies... No! My dad. His dad. The PRESIDANT'S dad. I didn't care. He was not gonna tell me what to do! Without even giving Gideon a second look, I shoved past him, grabbed my coat, and stompped down the steps. Of course, BUD was there. "Morning sun-shine. Made pancakes! Would ya like one butter cup?" Bud chirped. O.k. That KINDA back fired on me. I was expecting a couple of words along the lines of 'get sweepin' you dirty slave-child.' That way, bursting out the door and slamming it behind me wouldn't have sounded like such a crime. Nonetheless, I really couldn't go back after that. Not after making that great exit. Even if I forgot my- *mini heart attack* 'Wait. WHERE IS IT?! OH NO NO NO NO NO! I thought it was in my pocket! It has to be! Wait!' I turn around in a start, looking towards the shack. "WHERE'S MY PHONE?!" Birds fly from the tops of the trees as my shriek of absolute horror escapes me. In my heart, I prey it's still with me. I search the folds of my pockets. My shirt pockets. My pants pockets. The pockets of my hot pink jacket. What's the point? If it was on me, I'd know. It's the size of a bidazzled brick and has an intena as long as a fishing pole.  
"Great." I murmur as my feet drag me across the gravelly sidewalk. The air felt hot and dry as usual,making my skin crawl with irritation. My phone, my spirit animal, was left in the shack. I bet Gi-dumb-dumb sat on it like the fat, donut eating, beached whale he is... UGH! I can't go back for it now! Not after making that exit. Maybe I can climb through the window? Not a chance. I've roamed through the entire shack and haven't seen ONE ladder. And even if I did, I'd have to enter the shack just to get it, defeating the whole purpose. Maybe I could just spend the night at someone's house? Yah! That'll wo- Oh wait. I don't have any friends... Not a problem. I spin around on my heels, quickly taking in the scene of people, picking out every girl my age. Two girls. One asian. One... horizantally tall. The asian girl wore a green school uniform, pressed and steamed, sparkling with glitter in the sunlight. The fat gir- I mean modestly wide girl wore a pink tank top with pig tails. O-M-G... "I found my people..." I whisper under my breath, building up the courage to bounce up to them. They were just across the street. Joy overwhelmed me as I began to skip across the street. I ignored the curses and middle fingers given from the drivers I stopped in the middle of the road, skipping to the other side. The girls seemed unaware of my presence, continuing their conversation about some 'totes hawt man-babe' the asian met.  
As I inched closer to them, about to tap one of them on the shoulder, my nerves began to kick in. What would I say? What if they weren't friendly? How was I supposed to stay the night at their house in one day? My imagination began to play at the back of my mind, reliving the day I arrived and bumped into Mabel. A lump grew in my lunges, sweat drops squeezing out of my pores. My legs grew stiff as I froze in my tracks and began to lower my outreached hand. I swung around on my heels, deciding to walk back to the shack, only to walk into a wall. O.k. I may have turned on my heels a little harder than I thought, because I wasn't facing the street anymore. But I was hurting. I landed on my butt with a thud, no doubt bruising something. "Oooowwww..." I moaned in destress, rubbing my behind, about to get up only for those two girls to turn around and race to my side. "OMG! Are you O.K.?!" The heavy girl asked. "Yah! You fell pretty hard!" The asian commented. I was so stunned with sudden joy I didn't even answer, stammering like an idiot. "Yah- I- I'm -uh- I mean-" I began, only for the asian to stop me. "I- Love- Your hair!" She exclaimed, taking the liberty to get behind me and brush her fingers though my hair. "It looks so LUXURIOUS!" The pig-tailed girl added, about to also feel my hair, only for the other girl to swat her hand away.  
"Shouldn't you be calling an ambulence or something?" The girl hissed. This seemed to snap me back into reality. "Oh! I'm not hurt! I just- Didn't see the wall." I explained with embarrasment. The asian seemed to wave this off, continuing with her hair-playing. "So, you're new here?" She asked, pin pointing it exacly. The other girl didn't say anything, just grunting and nodding in agreement. I didn't say anything either, mimicking the big girl's actions, nodding and grunting. The asian grinned at me, exposing her pearly whites to the world."You have such blue eyes!" The asian exclamed, staring into my eyes. "Where are you from?" The big one asked, only to have the asian snap her fingers. "Grenda! I was, like, talking to her and you just butted in! Omg! Chill for a sec! Anyways, I'm Candy, the nice one. That's Grenda, the fat one." Candy said in a sweet asian voice, with just a touch of valley girl mixed in. I didn't know what to say for a second, fazed by the "fat girl" comment. I quickly got over it though, assuming they were just good enough friends to say that to one another. "Nice to meet you!" I said in my perkiest voice. "I'm Pacifica!" Grenda lifted up an eyebrow and looked at Candy, almost like she was asking some kind of question that only Candy could hear. Candy didn't say anything, just nodding her head, as if to say "yes" to her question. "HEY!" Grenda began, digging into her purse shaped like a dog's head. "There's gonna be a PARTY at my house tonight! You should TOTALLY come!" She finished.  
"Totally." I said, trying to keep my cool. "Totally." Candy repeated, almost as if to seal the deal, making it impossible to back out. They got to their feet once again, helping me to my own as well. "It's at 7 tonight. Wear something... pink." Candy began. "Not a problem." I replied with complete honesty, since nothing I brought had any other colors. "Great! I LIVE-" Grenda began, only for Candy to shoosh her. "Grenda! Are you crazy! Do you want everyone to know YOU'RE HAVING A PARTY AND ONLY COOL PEOPLE ARE INVITED?!" Candy exclamed, catching everyone's attention. I kne I should have seen this as some kind of a sign that she was bad news, but honestly I felt flattered. I mean, I was picked out of all these other people she probably knew for years, already being deamed cool enough to go to her freind's party. "Wanna hang with us?" Candy asked sweetly, already intwining her arm with mine, towing me along with them. "Where are we going?" I asked. "My house, obviously. I can't stand being seen in this dirty town. I've only been here for a month and I'm already beginning to smell like wild racoon and moon shine." Candy answered a disguisted tone in her voice. "Really?" I ask in surprise, not knowing why anyone would dislike living here. "Of course! Only a looser would wanna live here! Why? Do you like it here?" She asked, and, in a panic, I lie. "'Course not! I hate it here too! It's just- I was surprised we both hated it here! I thought I was the only one!" I croke out, barely pulling off a convincing smile.  
"Omg! Yes! It's so true! Girls like us were meant to live in Las vegas or something. This place just makes me wanna- UGH. And it's all because of my stupid dad's STUPID job with his STUPID video games!" She hisses with sudden hatred. I feel like I should say something, but before I can think of anything, I've been dragged to the door of a limo. "GET IN GURL FRIEND!" Grenda bellowed, shoving my backside into the open door held by a well-dressed old man. "Is this a-" I begin, only to be cut off. "A limo? Duh! Only poor people walk home. Unless they're, like, really poor people who don't have homes or whatever." Candy answers, rolling her eyes. "Yah. Extravigent though, don't you think?" I ask shyly. Grenda and Candy look at me in surprise, almost disgusted with what I just said. My face quickly turns red in embarassment, realizing I probably just offended them or something. "Are you, like, POOR? Don't YOU have a limo?" Grenda asks, leaning in. My stomach turns, flipping and squeezing until it's filled with knots and anxiety. I live in a moble home in California with my hippy parents! I have a pet chicken and nine pairs of bell bottoms! (Luckly, I didn't pack any.) I own home made flower crowns that I set out to dry so I can wear them for longer periods of time to save money on "accessories!" I'm (Sometimes) a vegitarian and (on special occasians) only eat food grown in my mother's garden! If anyone's poor in this group, it's me! Holy crap! What do we do Paz?! LIE! LIE! LIE! "I- Uh- Of course! But... Mine broke down, so I'm stuck with this suckish ford my boss owns." I say, feeling satisfyed with my answer. "A boss? Ew." Candy stated blankly. My heart leeps once more, causing my mouth to open up and say the first cover up that comes to mind. "D-Did I say boss? GROSS! I meant... Uh... BUTLER! Yah! He said he could drive us in his car while we got ours repaired!" I retort in a rush, trying to fill in any plot holes to my story.  
"Well, why didn't you just buy a new limo and dump the busted one?" Grenda asks, speaking at a regular tone for the first time. I gulp, sweat quickly forming on my head as my mind races around, figuring out every possible answer. Before I can even answer, Candy pops in. "Omg Grenda! Stop being so noisy! She doesn't have to tell you if she doesn't want to!" She bellows in annoyance. I quickly let my mind rest, knowing Candy's got my back if Grenda trys asking any more questions. Before I can say something to change the topic, Candy leans over, cupping her hand around my ear. "You can tell me later." She whispers into my ear with a grin on her face. My mind instantly begins racing again, coming up with excuses to tell her. I sat there for a good minute or two while the other girls talked until the limo came to a sudden stop. My body lerched forword an inch or two, causing the strap of my seat belt to pull against the forward motion of my person. It wasn't much, but Candy must have thought other wise. "DRIVER!" Candy shreiked, sliding back the black window seporating the passengers from the drivers in anger. "WE ALMOST CRASHED BACK THERE! ARE YOU BLIND?!" She hissed in complete anger. At this point, I stopped thinking of excuses for my make-believe limo. Now, all I'm doing is creating different escape routes in my mind without ruining our new friendship completely. "I'm sorry ma'am! I broke my leg last week and it's hard pressin' the brakes with a-" The driver began, only for her to continue her speech. "YOU- You are on thin ice sir... One more slip up like this, and I'm calling my father to tell him you're not cut out for taking care of his sweet angel's life!" She threatens. The man's silent for a moment, only to get out of the car, opening the passenger's doors to let us out.  
"I apologise for my driver's ignorance. He doesn't seem to understand the effects of his recklessness." Candy saids harshly. I Turn to see the driver who looks somewhat ashamed and angry. He looks old. Like, Mathusala old. He has a long grey beard that's been breaded, combed, hair sprayed, and tied in a bright red bow for perfection. He does infact have a cast on his leg, as well as his hand. His nose is as long as a hummingbird's, also being well-shined and plucked of even the slightest hair. I look down at his outfit, seeing a wrinke-free tux with a nametag reading "Mcgucket."


	22. Party Talk

Grenda and Candy grabbed Pacifica's arms, rushing her through the doors with haste. "It's big, isn't it?" Candy said, releasing Pacifica, leaving her hands free to place them on her hips with pride. "Yah. My dad's the owner of some lame bussiness called 'Od-net-nin' or whatever. It's French for 'no friends.'" Grenda snickered at Candy's roast on her dad's job, stiffly followed by Pacifica's attempt at a chuckle. It wasn't easy though, since she was a bit of a fan of "Mar-lio." Her snicker quickly died out, feeling awkward in someone else's house for the first time. It was so... empty. Every sound she made bounced off the walls and gave a phantom-like echo in response.  
"Soooo... Who does your hair?" Candy asked, twirling the tips of Pacifica's hair between her finger tips. Pacifica tried not to wince, hearing Candy's voice bounce off the walls like the scratching of a chalk board, as she dug threw possible responses. Overall, she chose the truth for once. "I do it myself. It's really easy." Pacifica stated with slight pride. "How's it so blond? Highlights? Did you dye it? Don't tell me you ultra-bleached it! Omg! I'd be sick!" Candy exclaimed in disguist. "No! I- It's... natural?" 'It's not natural. It's not natural. What am I doing?! Back out of it! It's dirty blond! It's not natural! WE ULTRA-BLEACHED IT!' Pacifica thought franticlly. 'I mean, it's not a big deal or anything. It's a little white lie. Just a small one. No big deal. Don't freak out. Nothing to worry about. Perfectly fine.' She reasured herself. "No. Way." Candy gasped. 'Oh crap! SHE CALMED MY BLUFF. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO-'  
"I guess you live somewhere really sunny!" Grenda exclaimed, earning a jab in her stomach from Candy. "I was talking Grend-o! Butt out or I am UNINVITING you to your party!" Candy hissed. Grenda shut her mouth about as quickly as she had opened it, stepping back alittle. "Anyways, where are you from?" She asked. Pacifica gulped in response, trying to pin point the perfect location for rich people like her. "I... EVERYWHERE!" She blurted out. This seemed to confuse the girls instantly. "Everywhere?" Candy asked in response. "I- My dad, I mean... Is p-president of... the... Um- Boy Scout community? So... We move around a lot." She replied. There was a long pause before a response was given. "Um..." Candy mustered up. Pacifica began to panic, shreeking internally. She had to think quick and, in the end, Candy was the perfect inspiration for a quick lie.  
"Uh, yah! The Boy Scouts? The HUGE organization that runs the military? It's called Boy Scout just to sound less scary or whatever. You've never heard of them?" She said, trying to keep her poker face straight. She had only known Candy for half an hour and already knew she hated being behind on a trend. If anyone would fall for that bait, it was her. "Uh- I mean-... OH!" Candy began, as if a lightbulb went off in her head. "B.S.! Our military... People... They... Uh... Work behind the... Other military. Like, as the little brother defense for America... Of course!" Candy said, fidgetting alittle. "Your dad's a general then?" Grenda added, stepping forward, just to get a palm in her face. "Not now Gren-zilla. The thin people are talking." Candy began. "So, tell me more about... YOU." She struggled to choke out, as if any topic that didn't revolve around herself was like drinking rat poision and bleach.  
Candy put her arm around Pacifica's shoulder, rushing her to the door. "Well, I like cats and-" Before Pacifica could get another word out, Candy was already opening the door. "You know, I just realived, it's like four-thirty. Grenda needs to get the party ready. You better head home and, like, put on your pink. Tuesdays you wear pink now. ALWAYS. Mondays you wear diamonds. Wednesdays you wear high heels. Thursdays you wear your best bra. And Fridays are skinny jeans. O.k., BYE!" Candy said, slamming the door. Pacifica began to walk away, only to have the door open up once more. "Oh! And if you ever wear another pair of shoes with laces on them, I'm branding your forehead... SEE YOU AT THE PARTY!"


	23. Unwanted Visit

*Reader's POV*  
The room was a turnado of colors, fluffy blouses and anything silk lining the floor. "Pink or blue?" Mabel asked Dipper, who was torchered inside, looking forward to the sweet, sweet relief of death. Dipper didn't respond, finally snapping, trying to get her to leave him alone after an hour of clothes and a life time of babbling about said clothes. He laid on the end of his bed, arm draped over his eyes. "Come on, Dipper! The party's in an hour and I wanna meet that girl you were telling me about." Mabel poked, giving off a taunting side smirk. "Her name is Candy Chiu. She's not much of a talker outside of gossip." Dipper states, shrugging. "Well, either way, anything's a step up from that new girl. Northwest, was it?" Dipper rolled his eyes with annoyance and retorted sharply, "Southeast, as I've told you before. She's not bad company. I'd suggest you talk to her. From what I've heard, she's staying with your chubby pale dream boat of a child." Mabel scuffed, taking her new found knowledge into account.  
"She's such a drip. I should have known she would live in a mud hole like that." Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, followed by the sounds of light sobs. "Come in, Will." Called Dipper, gripping his amulet to prop the door open. Will floated in, his triangular body shivering from choked sobs. "M-miss sSoutheast is h-here..." Will began, only to be cut off by the twins instantly. "WHAT?!" They cried at the same time, looking at each other. "Did you invite her here?!" Mabel accused, pointing her finger in his face. "Why would I invite her here? You invited her as a test subject for our next act, didn't you?!" Dipper accused right back at her, launching himself off the edge of the bed, coming face to face with her. As their accusations got louder and louder, Will gulped, finishing his sentance. "-Along with Candy Chiu and her aquantance Grenda..." He finished, earning a hushed room, the twins looking perplexed. "She's here?" Dipper groaned, Mabel elbowing him in the stomach.  
"Dipper, did you invite her here?" Mabel questioned, Dipper shaking his head in response. "I'm afraid not. The party's not for another two hours. Either way, I'd hate to get near her before I've had my proper shots." Dipper quipped, earning yet another jab to the stomach. "Why could she be here than? And with Southnorth?" Dipper rolled his eyes, correcting her once more. "East. Southeast." Mabel waved her hand, fanning the statement away. "Yah. Yah. Who cares? Will, would you tell our guests that we will be down stairs shortly? I'd like to have a word with my twin for a moment..." Mabel turned to Dipper, eyes slitted, but a playful smile plastered on in contrast. Will nodded, floating towards the door backwards, making sure not to take his eye off of them for a second. Once the door swung shut, Mabel's hair cut through the air, her head snapping swiftly towards Dipper's face.  
"Well...?" Dipper asked, looking at Mabel's silent face, sprinkled with bits and pieces of anger and confusion. "You like her. Admit it." Mabel said blankly, crossing her arms with an air of superiority. Dipper shrugged his shoulders, looking at her. "Of course I do. How could I not? She's relatively bareble. That's more than I can say about Chiu." Dipper sauntered over to his personalized corner of the room, flopping down quite gracefully onto his favorite chair: A torn red chair, stuffed, foam spilling out the back end of the seat from years of 'over-loving.' Dipper crossed one leg over the other, resting his head ontop of his folded hands, eyes closed in thought. "Geez. Could you be a bigger dip? What happened to you liking that goth, Wendy? Can't you just go back to liking her?" With this, Dipper opened an eye, peering silently at her for a moment before deciding to speak. "I'm too young for her. She's twenty, I'm seventeen. It wouldn't work out. She has a boyfriend anyways and he's quite bareble as well." Dipper states.  
"UGH! Than go out with HIM. Just dump her. She's lame. She's ditsy like a Barbie doll. You could have SIX South Equators just like her." Dipper opened both eyes this time, turning his entire body towards her. "EAST. If you refuse to call her that, at the very least call her Paz!" Dipper bursted out, throwing his head back with frustation, racking his hair with his fingers, eyes shut once more. Mabel sighed, walking briskly to the edge of the bed facing him. "Dipper... Hey. I was just- joking." Mabel attempted to say, but it all sounded forced and fibbed. "Whatever. I just- Never mind." Dipper exhaled, continuing to rack his hair. Mabel grabbed at his hand, moving it away from his now-messy hair. "What? You just what?" Mabel asked softly, sudden pity in her eyes. Dipper only so much as gave her a side-glance, before continuing to rack his hair with his free hand.  
"Dipper..." Mabel asked once more, this time more prodding. Dipper was silent for a moment, sighing with regret, than turned to her. "I'm not surposed to tell you this. You have to promise no one hears of it." Dipper said, lifting up his pinky finger. Mabel took it, clutching his with her own finger, giving it a slight lift, dropping it softly, as if to signify some kind of hand shake. With a deep breathe, he closed his eyes, speaking very softly. "I have been... convinced to be near Candy... On a romantic level." He sighed, lowering his head, letting this bit of information sink into Mabel's skin. "So, what? You guys are like... getting married or something?" Mabel asked in a confused tone. Dipper choked out a small chuckle, trying to seem light hearted about it. "Thank God, no. I just... have to date her. Some weird 'summer love' deal her dad made with Stan. It's just to keep her happy while he's on a business trip, then she'll dump me and it'll be over." Mabel scowled at his responce, looking much more informed of the situation than she was before, and a lot more grossed out. But, something still bugged her. "So, what are you gonna do about Princess Peach down stairs?"  
Dipper shrugged hopelessly, seeming to sink into the ripped corner of his seat, wishing he could just drop the subject. "She's nothing I can't handle. I'll drop her effections like I dropped the mayor's dead body in that lake." "Haha. That was fun! " Mabel replied in remembrance, moving to his side to sit on the edge of his chair's arm. "She won't know what hit her, asides from her feelings once they get chucked back into her face!" She continued to tease, earning a cold laugh from Dipper, numbly amused. For a short time, the room went stail with silence and the air chilled, only for the door to be knocked on once more. This time, no responce was given for his entry, Mabel simply touched her amulet, creeking the door open. Will trembled through the doorway, trying to keep his posture as pure as he could. "They wish to see you know..." Will tried, barely getting the words out without studdering. Dipper took in a shallow, shaking breathe, letting his words flow out of him freely. "Let them know we're coming down." Bill nodded, levotating from the doorway to the steps, ready to signal Dipper's demise.


	24. You, Me, and Satan

*Pacifica's POV*  
Gentle foot steps trotted quickly down the stairs, swift and calculated. It seemed almost musical to hear his approach, as if it were a melody. I stood, Candy to the right of me, Grenda on the right of Candy, under the beautiful chandilere which reflected colorful shimmers of light across the walls. I sighed, seeing Dipper's form bounce slightly with every hop he made from step to step on his mohogony stair case. I felt a slight twist in my stomach though, looking over to see Candy who stood proudly in the middle of our trio. She gripped my arm, her nails pinching me slightly, as her gaze swept over every corner of Dipper's body.  
She seemed... Eager. Excited, even. I had never questioned her motives to visit Dipper, bringing me along as well. It had only been moments after she dismissed me that she called me back inside so that we could carpool to his house. Perhaps there was an ulternate motive to this whole visit. Of course, I never questioned the oppertunity to see this dude again, even with two other girls attending me. I guess that was a mistake on it's own. I saw, almost in slow motion, Dipper reach the base of the steps, followed shortly after by his sister. What was it? Marble? Maple? Whatever. Her name sucks either way.  
I don't like her. Like, at all. But, I digress. Dipper stood still, Marble peaking over his shoulder, almost child-like, Dipper apearing like a mother bird protecting his young. There was silence in the room, short-lived as it was. "Honey!" Candy shouted, her sharp nails close to drawing blood from my veins as she squeezed my arm with excitement. She quickly tossed me and Grenda aside, bouncing up to him with a confident gait. Even as Dipper stood on top of the last step, naturally a head taller than her as well, Candy's spirit seemed to make her seem almost... stronger than him. He smiled sheepishly, though his eyes seemed soulless. Anyone with eyes could tell how uncomfortable he felt around her, even at first glance. Grenda noticed. Maple noticed. I noticed. But Candy was still catching up to the whole idea.  
"Evening, Miss Chui. I see you've brought some... guests. Friends of yours?" He answered politly, not one word misplaced. Candy seemed almost hypnotized by his voice, because her snap reaction was to be confused, as if she had only heard the sound and not comprehended the words. "Wha-? Friends? Oh! Them! Yah, they're cool or whatever. Don't worry. I just wanted them to meet my boyfriend before the party..." She finished suductivly, eyeing him as she bit her lip slightly. Dipper didn't seem to do so much as flinch at her words, but Marmalade had already begun to peirce through his shirt with her nails, trying to restrain herself. What was her problem?  
"So... What will you be wairing?" She asked, swinging her arms innocently. A slightly pained hiss came from Dipper, reaching to his shoulder which Mantle had dug into. She instantly released her grip, seeing dripplets of blood on the tips of her nails. Dipper felt the place where she had been, reveiling a splotch of red on his palm where he touched it. He tilted his head slightly, scowling at her, which she returned with an awkward smile. As he turned back to Candy, he could see the slight disguist on her face, but she quickly covered it up with an equalling awkward smile.  
"Are you gonna... Bandage that?" She asked, tiltig her head puppy-like, obviously trying to seem cute. She reached up to graze the wound, which she did very thorrowly, tracing her finger tips from his stomach to his chest before landing at the spot on the shoulder, which I scoffed at very quietly, as to not be noticed. At this action Dipper did seem to stiffen, almost soldier-like, as she felt at his peircing. But he didn't resist, endurring every small circle she drew against his shoulder with her pointy index finger, the air almost seeming to go cold with every lap her nail spent huvering on his skin. I could almost feel it, her nail on my shoulder, the sensation unescapable. I felt vilolated, seeing her near him, looking at his, talking to him, touching him.  
Finally, Dipper broke the cycle, the wound probably throbbing now with too much physical contact. I began to feel kinda dumb, not even acknowledging the possible pain he could feel from that. Even something that seemed so innocent. Dipper placed his hand against Candy's, pushing it towards her chest, a strained expression of forced composer vivid on his features. "I should get this bandaged before it's infected. It's beginning to sting." He said awkwardly, almost frightened. I could almost see it. Candy, a mighty lion picking at it's prey, still alive and trying to escape the inevitable. Dipper, the fretting deer which kicked up dust with every attempt it made to slip from the feline's grasp. Poor thing never had a chance.  
"Of course! You need to look your best for the party. Who would've thought? Even siblings bat for each other." Candy spat out, leaving the room suddenly cold and awkward. "...What?" The twins questioned at the same time, taking a step away from each other quickly. "Please! Don't be jealuse girl! Sure, I'm stealing him from you, but digging your fingernails into his shoulder?! Just because you're so angry that you can't even express it, how I'm dating your brother. It's silly!" She exclamed, laughing her head off. She paused for a moment, snapping her head to look at Grenda with poison, signalling for her to follow up. And, just as she had asked, Grenda did. And soon, the room was filled with a robotic, awkward chorus of stail laughter, even though I pretty much wanted to ball up like a rolly polly and die. I made eye contact with Dipper and he was not happy. A straight up death stare, it looked like, pointed directly at me.  
I could feel the voice creeping up in the back of my head, a perfect clone of Dipper's smooth voice, now contorted and shredded with anger and spite: 'I hate you...' It left my throat dry and burning, straining to hold back tears. Even in my own mind, the idea of him hating me seemed unbareble. But, somehow, it felt as if he had said it. No strings attached. Just a natural, honest, burning hatered for me as a human being.  
Soon after the laughter, Candy churped her goodbyes, babbling on and on about how fun the party'll be, while dragging me and Grenda along by the arm. The doors slammed shut more than harshly, wind brushing my face as the skyward doors came to an unpleseant close. Now, even Candy could feel the sting in the action, an obvious sign of loathing after what she had said. She released our cloths, stretched and wrinkled from her constant grip, only to ball up her fists, mumbling to herself. "GOODBYE!" She shouted heatedly, hoping for a response. Of course, there was none. She stood for a moment, facing the condecending door, only to swing around on her heals towards the limo.  
I began to make my way to the limo as well, only for Candy to grab my sleeve once more. To my suprise, she yanked me close to her mouth, to where my ear just barely huvered above her lips. "Dipper. Is. Mine." She hissed, releasing me, only to instantly regain her composure and appear happy and bubble once more. She sauntered off towards the door of the limo, hopping into the mobile, waving her hand for me to join with a smile. And, without even thinking, I swept her action away instantly and went back to thinking she was the nicest friend I had ever had.


	25. Party (Pt 1)

The limo ride was short, Candy dropping me off at the mall as I had asked so I could walk the rest of the way home. Of course, I didn't tell her that.  
Instead, I told her I was going to buy a new outfit for the party, which Candy gave a sigh of relief to. Once the limo pulled away, I began my walk home.  
By the time I reached the Shack, the sun was already beginning to set. Opening the door, I was instantly met with an angry face which took me by the arm and rushed me to the couch.

"Where have you been?!" Bud barked, his hands on his hips. I had completely forgotten about the episode I had had this morning, rushing out the door without saying a word to him.

In a way, I felt guilty. But more so, I felt frustrated. I was supposed to be at the party by eight. It was seven. I only had one hour to get dressed and walk to the party, which I only had vague directions to.

I stumbled for a bit, trying to figure out what to say, only for the truth to come out. "I was hanging with some friends."  
It seemed harmless enough, but Bud was less than pleased with my response. "You missed your shift. Care to explain?" Bud asked gruffly.

Little did I know, it was a rhetorical question. "I forgot." I shrugged. Once again, Bud seemed to go sour with my answer. I didn't know what he wanted to hear. And he wouldn't tell me if I asked. Maybe if I played it sweet, he'd let me slip past him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I was up really late last night ready my bible and cleaning the Shack so I woke up late and was a little cranky so I decided to take a walk into town and look at nature to become one with it and I made some new friends and they're really nice because one of their names is Candy and even her name sounds sweet so you can't say I was being bad-"

And that was all I got to say before Bud completely cut me off with a sputter of surprise. "Candy? Candy Chui?! No! No no no no nopedy nope nope! You are not hanging out with her!" Bud spat.

"What? Why? She's so nice!" I argued, dropping my angel-act instantly. "She's also dating a teen-monster!" He barked back. I was stunned by his response. Would he let me hang with anyone that knew him? In a word, no. "B-but sir-" I began, but he would have it.

"Upstairs. NOW. Tomorrow you're working double time to make up for today. No breaks. Now GO." He responded sternly, pointing his meaty finger towards the steps. With a quivering lower lip, I bounced up from the sofa, anger enflaming me. "Fine!" I shouted back, if not to have the last word. I stomped up the steps, my room's door already cracked open.

I poked my head in awkwardly, seeing if someone was inside. And inside, they were. More so, he was. Gideon laid on top of my bed, a cocky smile plastered on his face.

"Dad got mad at you again, didn't he?" He taunted, sticking his tongue out like an eight year old. "Get off my bed." I grumbled, not bothering to answer.  
Gideon's mood didn't seem to change, hopping up from my bright pink sheets. "It's too bad. He's not gonna let you go anywhere for at least a month with the mood you've got him in. I should know." He continued, though I tried my best to ignore it.

"Whelp, I guess you're not going to Candy's big party than?" This part caught me by surprise, turning me to face him without even thinking about it.  
How did he know about the party? Even more so, how did he know I was invited? "Yah. The whole town's talking about the party. And Candy's no exception. She keeps telling people how much you adore her and begged her to invite you. You're a real suck up, you know?" Gideon chuckled.

I didn't know what to say. So I didn't. Instead, the little toddler stuck out his hand to me, his face going serious for a moment.  
"I can get you to the party if you still wanna go." He said secretively, just barely breaking a whisper. I let out a slight 'huh', completely confused.  
Why would he ever help me? We didn't exactly see eye-to-eye. Nonetheless, I wouldn't turn down a chance to make it to Candy's party. I was about to grab his hand, when it was snatched away from me.

"On one condition." Gideon said sharply. I grumbled, knowing it wasn't out of the 'goodness of his heart' that he was going to help me. I suppose I wasn't that surprised though. I crossed my arms, my eyes slit as I stair at him.  
"What?" I ask, finally. Gideon pulls in a deep breathe before speaking, knowing I'd probably say no. "Take me with you."

The car's engine roared, alive with a full tank and two teens sitting up front. Dipper sat in the driver's seat, Mabel right next to him, about to pull out of the drive way and towards the party.

A sigh escaped from them both, seeing the night sky and It's distant stars stair down at them. "Do we have to go?" Mabel asked him, a stale volume to her voice which just barely passed apathetic.

Dipper nodded, though he kept his gaze at the stars, reminiscent of what Pacifica had done hours before and what he had told her just after it. 'I hate you...' Did he really think that? Was she really worth hating for joining forces with someone so evil?

"Dipper?" Mabel asked, placing her hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly. He tilted his head just slightly in her direction, just enough to see her sympathetic eyes.

"I'm sure she didn't mean it..." She continues, surprising Dipper. Mabel seemed to know exactly what Dipper was thinking, and she didn't want him hung up on it the entire time.

Nonetheless, Dipper preferred keeping his feelings to himself at the moment. No one needed to hear the inside of his head. "Stay outta my head Mabel." He replied, a slight hiss in his voice, though he tried his best to appear level-headed.

Mabel slumped back in her seat, arms crossed, head tilted once more to the sky. In the distance, she could make out slight streams in the sky composed of different colors.

"Lights." She pointed out, lifting her finger in the direction of the lines which flashed with vivid reds and greens. Dipper took note of this, watching them swirl with power and energy.

For a moment, he could also pick out a dull hum of music. Something peppy and sweet, talking about love and hate and breaking up.  
"Candy told me it was going to be big. I wish I had asked how big." Dipper grumbled, realizing just how loud and open the party would be. Loud music. Loud colors. Loud people. Loud Candy.

Dipper pulled out of the driveway, his jet black mustang humming low with a grumble, driving towards the giant house which flooded the town with it's screaming colors.

Pacifica and Gideon arrived right on time, with the help of Wendy and her boyfriend Robbie. They had already been invited, it was only Gideon who was left out of the gathering and had to sneak in.

Upon entering the party, blaring music and bursting lights filled each one of their senses, almost numbingly. "It's like a party for Skittles!" Pacifica screamed, bouncing out of her shoes, her energy building up inside her. Wendy, on the other hand, seemed to scoff.  
"This party was made by some twelve-year-old on a sugar high or something. I mean, look at this! I can't even see!" She yelled over the booming music, catching Robbie's attention.

'The goth girl and the scholar boy' was what people called them. Robbie was a straight A student and never caused one bit of trouble.  
He wasn't bad looking either, with glasses perked on his pale but soft skin, jet black hair, a pressed blue shirt composed of flannel patterns, and a clean pair of jeans.

He was nothing like his girlfriend, with her long red hair, dark eyeliner which almost seemed to drip, albino-like skin tone, and black. Everything she wears, black.

Robbie placed his arm around Wendy's waste, while she placed her arm around his neck, like a loving head lock or something. Pacifica took this into account.

'Perhaps that's what guys like.' Almost instantly after entering the party, the group seemed to split. Robbie with Wendy and Gideon with Pacifica, much to her dismay.

Gideon almost seemed to cling to her arm as they ventured through the hyped crowd of teens.  
"Are you gonna follow me this entire time or something?" Pacifica finally asked, whirling around on her heals to look at him. Gideon seemed to straighten up at the comment and looked away awkwardly.

He had never been to a party and didn't know where to start. "I-I don't know what to do..." He mustered, which Pacifica gave an over-exaggerated sigh to.  
"Dude! You BEGGED me to bring you here and now you don't know what to do? Just- Find your people or something, man!" She complained, jolting her head back in exasperation.

"But-" Gideon began, only for Pacifica to cut in. "Listen bro, you don't have to hang with the kids on the floor dance. Those are my people. There are all sorts of groups to be found at parties." She responded reassuringly, pointing to small pockets of people, some talking scientifically, others not talking at all.  
Gideon looked nervous as he stared at the teens which pressed themselves against the walls, as if to try their hardest to look 'edgy.' Pacifica saw the contemplation vivid on his face, so she decided to take the first step for him.

Stepping behind him, she pressed her palms against his back, hustling him up to the area consisting of the 'math-y people', Pacifica had deemed them.  
"What are you doing?! Stop!" Gideon resisted, throwing his arms behind him, if not to merely slap at air. Pacifica, on the other hand, seemed to burn red hot with the attention he was beginning to draw from people.

She slumped her head between her shoulders, smiling weakly. "He's fine! Don't worry! Just a little drunk!" She tried to reassure, but the staring continued. She had to stop soon. So, on the final few steps, she pushed him as hard as she could up to the math-y people. A little too hard, being that he fell flat on his face and didn't seem to get up.

The math-y people helped though, lifting his limp body off the ground, Gideon slowly regaining consciences. People began to look at her funny, but from the way Gideon seemed to fit in with the math-y people, she deemed this a job-well-done.

We reached the party a little after it had begun, dressed in what Mabel calls our 'party clothes'. I looked down at myself, ripped jeans, a 'Twenty one Pilots' t-shirt with short sleeves that didn't cover my sides. Instead, it left them bare to reveal scars and slight bruises down to my waist from past 'experiences'.  
Mabel said they gave me "Character", but I said they make me look weak. I looked at my feet, covered up by jet-black sneakers which seemed to chase away all forms of life. I loved these shoes.

I could get the scuffed up, burnt, soaked in water, or ripped, but they always seemed to bounce back. Mabel said they made me look dirty, but I said they gave me character.

I fixed my hair, swooshing my bangs to the side to show my birthmark with pride. I looked over to Mabel, wearing the exact same thing, with an exception of my sneakers and jeans, which she proudly replaced with a pair of blue flats and a pair of leggings.

She smiled at me, patting my back as if to reassure me of this party. "Candy's got no power over you. Don't let her push you around." She smiled, which I tried to return. I nodded my head, trying my best to seem confident, but these parties always made me queasy.

Mabel locked arms with me, squeezing me through the door entrance which was blocked by a floor of dancers. Everything was awful. The colors, the music, the snacks, the people.

"DIPPER!" The candy... Directly in front of us was Candy, waving vigorously for us to join her on the floor. Neither of us had locked eyes with her, luckily, so we hustled away as if we hadn't heard her over the music.

We squeezed past couples, math-y people, dancers, and alcoholics, just to make sure she couldn't see us. "Is she gone?" Mabel asked in a whispering tone, though her volume was enough to carry over the loud music.

"Is who gone?" Said a voice, and we knew exactly who it was. Mabel and I turned around slowly, surprise filling every sense we had. Once we came face to face with the little devil, we couldn't help but through our arms around her.

"WENDY!" We screamed, squishing her in our twin bear hug. She barked her familiar, uncensored, full-hog cackle that we hadn't heard in months. Last we saw of her, she had left for some low-life college meant for bums and people too lazy to go to a real college, which was just her style.


	26. Party (Pt 2)

Candy and I bumped into each other shortly after Gideon and I departed, which was just as well. I couldn't have someone like her see me with someone like... Gideon.

He's a real dork, that boy, and knowing him on a first-name bases is dangerous in itself. Candy's really sweet, but if she knew I even talked him, my whole fib about being rich and low-key famous would go right out the window.

I have to keep this up, just until the end of the summer. Luckily, Candy didn't even seem to notice Gideon was at the party. Her mind was elsewhere at the moment. "Have you seen Dipper? I saw him in the crowd a second ago, but he disappeared." She complained, gripping my shoulders as a way to emphasize her frustration.  
In a moment of realization, I was met with a shock of remembrance. Dipper. He was at this party... After what had happened this afternoon, I didn't know how I felt about being in the same room as him. He seemed a little unstable at the time, angry even, to the point where he might actually be hateful towards me.

I'm sure it was all in my head, but it still felt so... real. Like he had actually said it, even though everyone in the room knew he hadn't. No one heard it. His lips didn't even move, so how could he possibly-  
Gideon... He told me something about them once. They were... Dangerous? Surely, at this point, I could conclude that they had some weird connection with strange things in this town. But, then again, all I had seen was a pack of gnomes, which could have just as easily been a couple of short old men.

Maybe this town was normal and they were just scams. It would make a fair amount of sense. But... Something still bugs me. It's a fuzzy feeling really, that feeling of being just out of reach of something. A word you can't quite remember, though you may have a vague idea of what it starts with.

The mumbled lyrics to a song you heard once or twice on the radio which you filled in with free-styled poetry. The name of a historical figure or artist who's name eludes you.

I felt like I could grasp it, I was so close. A lost memory long forgotten. A dream I had had a night or two ago. What was it about? I can see a forest when I squint my eyes shut, strands of blue string littering the tree's branches.

I feel something, as if a warmth wrapped around my waist, tugging at my heart strings. I strain every muscle in my brain to create some... explanation for it. The warmth that wraps around me like a womb of soft silk and a scent... Like flowers. Roses? Poppies? Daisies? Daisies... I had daisies... Someone gave me daisies... Who...?

I close my eyes for a moment, getting the full picture for a mere millisecond before it splashes to a white page again. I can see it, and then I loose it. It feels like trying to grip onto sand, but it keeps slipping through the palms of my hands... Huh. That rhymed... Kinda like a... poem. I feel like someone recited a poem to me before... How did it go...? I press my eye lids together, building up pressure behind them as my brain works on over-time for the first time since summer break began. Forest. Poetry... Daisies.

Dipper. The forest. It was all coming back to me. There was something... a Gobremlin or Gremgrooblim. Maybe both. Maybe neither. I had seen one. In the forest. Dipper was there. We ran. We beat it with... I think it was a stuffed dolphin...? Nonetheless, we beat it. And after that... he... did something. Knocked me out, I think, with some kind of powder.

No, a smoke. He... created it... from himself. His breath made some kind of gas... I remember it now. It was blue. He was blue. His eyes... were blue. What had he done to me? What had he done... to himself? Was Dipper... could he be... Magic?

"PACIFICA!" Candy shrieked, shaking me vigorously as she spat venom at me. "LISTEN TO ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!" She continued angrily. I hadn't even noticed how spaced out I was. How long had I been- "Come on! You're helping me find Dipper! He's at this party, I know it!" She stated in a stern tone, grabbing my wrist with force, as if she were my father or something.

I didn't resist her advances, continuing to follow her blindly. How could I not? She was a dear friend in need of assistance and I was her dumb sheep, ready to jump into action at any time.

Wendy hadn't changed a bit. Still the same head strong, loud mouthed, emo-driven monster we knew and loved. Mabel seemed to clinger to her arm just as she had when we first met her, back when she was still our "nanny".

It didn't last long. A couple of months at best. She was soon fired though for back talking and, if I may be honest, several accounts of stealing. But we couldn't help but love her whole-heartedly. She was like a big sister to us.

A monstrously one, I may add, but still there. She taught Mabel how to manipulate people into doing what she wanted, though it created a heavy sense of ownership towards everything she wanted, giving Mabel her world famous temper. She taught me how to pretty much not care about anything people said or did to me, which led to me being distant and disconnected.

But, nonetheless, we loved her all the same. "You guys grew again." Wendy said, measuring herself up to us as she always did in a teasing manner. Though I had grown far past her height, she still found it funny to treat me like I still had a long way to go.

Which was just fine for me. Mabel didn't mind either, resting her head in the crest of Wendy's neck as she did when we were still 12.

When Wendy still carried Mabel up the steps because our preteen legs got tired after half the steps had been climbed. When I was still big-headed and close-minded to the possibility of magic.

When she would urge me to stand up to Stan, though I never did. Back when I sat up on a stool while she styled my hair for the morning routine, telling me how 'handsome' and 'chill' my birthmark was.  
She was someone we could count on.

Even after the stealing and the lying and the jail time and the vandalism and the alcohol she slipped out of Stan's secret stash, we still loved her like family. And she did too. "How are you guys making it now-a-days, since your favorite care-taker left the town?" She questioned, which I couldn't help but reply with a snarky remark, as we often did after Mabel and I turned thirteen, old enough to visit her in jail or on the streets. Whichever it ended up being.

"You were gone for like a second. Didn't you get kicked out for prostitution or something?" I joke with a snicker.

As usual, Mabel's the first to burst into laughter, followed by Wendy and soon her awkward new boyfriend, Ruby. I mean Rambo. Ro... ROBBIE. That's it. Her awkward new boyfriend Robbie. "You bet. Right after selling marijuana and forged license plates." Wendy quipped right back at me.

A stream of laughter followed after her statement, and this continued for what felt like hours. Just the group (+ Robbie) hanging out like we always did. A couple of statements, a couple of laughs, a lot of meme jokes. Just like always. It was perfect.

And then, without warning, I felt a tug at my sleeve. "Dipper! I found you! What are you doing?" Candy screeched, as if she was trying to cause a scene.

I twisted my body around in a jolt of surprise, seeing her in a state of masked anger, cloaked by a smile and glimmering eyes. "Who are your friends?" She asked me nonchalantly, eyeing Wendy up and down, Wendy modeling only the finest of her rabid-dog glares. She looked close to barking, as a matter of fact, and so did Mabel.

I saw it, Mabel popping up on her tippy-toes to whisper into Wendy's ear, not once breaking eye contact with Chui once. And she knew she was being talked about.

Within a good fifteen seconds, Wendy's eyes lit up with new found knowledge that made her teeth grind together. "So..." She hissed out, trying with every muscle in her body to keep the little bit of composure she had. "You're throwing this party?" She mustered up, her teeth just barely parting to allow the words passage.

Candy straightened up, touching up her hair just slightly as she replied, "Yah, I did. Grenda and Paz helped, I guess. But my vision was what really drove it to success." She boasted, as if her party was some kind of celebration of her greatness.

Wendy wasn't even slightly impressed, rolling her eyes and picking at her nails as Candy continued, talking about how much money it cost to pay for crap and how expensive her dress is and how it's designer and how she did her hair and makeup and got new shoes and everyone loved her for it and blah blah blah blah blah.

And, just like Wendy always does, she interrups her. "I was told this was Grenda's party. Where is she?" Wendy asked, crossing her arm. Candy was slightly taken back by her statement, but she hadn't quite finished talking about herself, I suppose.

"Um, sorry. I was talking. Save questions for after the story." She stated promptly. "Yah, well you're boring everyone to tears with your jaw dropping tale of shoes. Who the Hell do you even think you are, really?" And that was it. I had officially taken flight out of this conversation. I didn't need any part in this, and saying something might get Candy a little... ticked.

Who knows what that would make Stan if she decided to dump me? I could see it, her red eyes burning with hatred as Wendy continued. I couldn't even listen to half the stuff she was saying, it was so bad.  
Half way through it though, Candy broke. "SECURITY!" Candy shrieked, not caring what kind of attention she got from her guests.

Instantly, a hand full of football player-sized men where in the area. Grabbing Wendy by the shoulder, they began to rip her outta the house, Mabel barking at the men to let go. I would've helped too, but it wasn't Candy or Stan that stopped me. It was Wendy.

She looked at me funny, like she knew I shouldn't... couldn't go after her and help. I saw her hand lift slightly as I was about to rip away from Candy and attack the guards. She motioned with a hand a signal to lay low almost. A weak patting motion with her hand like 'sit down man'. She smiled her typical half smile, which she only had to do when things were really bad for me. Which, in a way, they were.


	27. Party (Pt 3)

They were all kicked out. Mabel, Wendy, and Robbie, who hadn't done anything wrong. I guess knowing them was bad enough. I could see it from Candy, her sweet dimener stripped away completely, replaced with what I'd call 'The Real Candy'.

Her hands were balled up into tight fists, her knuckles numbing white as she fomed over with swear words and insults, all pointed to Wendy and Mabel. I hated it. I hated her. I wanted to let her hear it. And she did. I know she did. I told her. I told Paz. I even told Grenda that I hate her. And, right now, I definitly do. I want her to die a terrible, terrible death.

But, Candy had other plans. Without any sign of warning, she yanked my bare wrist through the crowd, dragging me over to what looked like a mini-bar. "Sit down." She told me, an impassive expression plastered on her face.

I complied, knowing what would happen if I didn't, the bar stool high as I jumped onto it. Candy watched me for a moment, my face overcast from the bar's burnt-yellow lights placed above me, only to hop atop a stool herself.

There was a long pause from her, and I could hear it. She was counting. Breathing heavily. She was calming herself down before the real fire began. Her body spun in it's seat, her knees brushing the side of my thigh as she looked at me, her cheek resting on her palm as she pulled a pout.

"You know, you're a real disappointment." She began, an indifferent tone to her voice, as if she truly were being let down.

I cracked a weak smile, a hum of a chuckle vibrating through my lungs as I spoke. "Wouldn't be the first time." I mustered, keeping my face pointed towards the bar tender, who seemed just as indifferent as Candy did.

I dared to peak a glimpse at her from the side of my eye, but she looked just as flat as her tone, stone cold. "You don't like me very much, I'm guessing?" She questioned once again, which we both knew the answer to. I didn't bother to respond. Why should I? It was 'yes' whether I told her or not. I turned my head, tilting it upwards just slightly as I looked at her. Once more, indifferent. She seemed impossible to read.

"God, you are beautiful." This caught me by surprise. She had mumbled it under her breath, just below a whisper, as if to admire me. I turned my whole body towards her, our knees jumbled up together, looking straight at her.

"Why do you think that? What could I be any use to you as other than a lie? You don't wanna hang out with me. You just wanna look at me." I spoke, which Candy gave an exaggerated sigh to, rolling her eyes as she soaked up what I had said.

"Yah, well, you're not much for conversations either." She shot back effortlessly. I could see it in her eyes. She had something she needed to tell me, and she knew very well it may have power over me.

"You know," She began, "I could tell your Great-uncle Stan what a terrible mess it's been. Your sister. Your attitude. Your personality. You have no idea how to treat a lady." She continued. I couldn't help myself, I had to say it. "Well, you have no idea how to act like one."

"Nonetheless, I think we both know what'd happen if he found out I was unhappy." I understood exactly what she was saying. She was blackmailing me. In exchange for obedience, she'd stay happy, making her father happy, making Stan happy, making me happy.

And I had to agree with her. For the time being, she had me on a short leash, and I couldn't risk slipping up. Who knows what could happen if I do. "What do you want from me anyways?" I ask, resting my left elbow on the bar's slick surface. She doesn't say a word to me, turning towards the bar tender and giving him a look. He seems to know what she wants, because he comes back with two small shot glasses and places them in front of us.

"Drink it." She demanded, pushing the cup towards me, and I had no choice but to down it just as she had asked. And we both knew it.

Pacifica's POV

I watched, but did not intervene. I could see it, as if everything he had worked to cover up was slipping away, revealed. He was loosing it so easily, his composure, as if it had simply been face paint, smudged and smeared from the simplest of touches.

His hair spiked up in spots, making him look like some rabid animal which slept in the dirt. His face was downcast, depressed, lost in a rabbet hole that just went farther and farther, with no signs of stopping. I saw the glasses pile up at his side, Candy keeping the shots flowing.

Candy... She looked so different in this place. Like a monster. With every two shots the bar tender gave them, she slid one of the two towards him, as if it were a command. Perhaps it was. I saw Dipper, each time, hesitate to take the drink.

He, if anything, seemed to loathe the drink as his brows came together and his eyes squinted close. It looked wrong, seeing him shake his head with a shiver each time the drink touched his lips. He looked sick... No. He looked drunk.

I couldn't let this happen, no matter who it was. I braced myself, fixing my hair just slightly, prepared to cut in and stop this madness. I hope Candy won't hate-

And she's down for the count, Candy Chui. Her forehead bangs the bar's sleek top as she looses consciousness, so drunk she can't even hold her own head up. I look to Dipper, nothing registering on his face, as if it hadn't happened. He seems, more or less, completely disconnected from the situation, as if he were wired to do only two things: Lift, and drink. Lift, and drink.

He sits very still, as if waiting for new instructions to be input on his hard drive. He blinks dryly, his eyes locked on her limp body, not sure what to do. What could he do? What should he do? More importantly, what should I do? He looked sedated, as if nothing outside of himself would register. Either way, I had to help.

My foot steps felt heavy, slowly shuffling towards him, hearing a low mumble from under his breath as I drew near. His words were soft, gentle even, as if the voice of a sober man. But his eyes gave him away, low and apathetic as the alcohol raced through his blood stream, stealing him away into the night.

I reached the bar, standing right in front of him, yet he didn't so much as acknowledge me. I placed my hand on his knee, giving him a slight shake, startling him out of his strange hypnotized state.  
"Heeeeey Dipper..." I said softly, looking into his eyes, a mixture of blue and brown swirling within them.

He seemed neutral in my presence, which I suppose I should be happy about, since a couple of hours ago he hated me. He moves slowly, his lips parting as he udders these simple words: Evening Southeast.

His voice even sounded sober, elegant as always, but his hands still clung to the bar's table for stability as he spoke. He was still clinging to his composure, seeming capable to take care of himself, but I knew better. "Let's get you home Pines." I began, wrapping my arms around his waist as I tried to pull him off the bar stool.

He put up a fight though, wiggling his arms through my strange bear hug, nudging me away with his elbow as I got closer to getting him off the seat. "I'm fine, thank you." He said, almost panic-y as I pressed my face into his chest, resisting his drunken pushes.

I felt kinda close to giving up, to be honest, but I guess he had a little less in him than I did. He gave up a short while before I was about to, sighing in a sorrowful defeat as I dragged him off the stool. He lost his ground almost instantly, his left arm wrapped around my neck, while the rest of him dangled limply at my side.

He climbed me, gaining his feet again as his right arm clung to me with strength. I quickly rearranged him, placing my shoulder under his left arm to keep him stable as we began to walk out. As we left, I caught a quick glimpse of Gideon playing 'Dragons, dragons, and more dragons' with his new found group of friends.


	28. walking home

It was silent, both of our heads down as the street lights came on. His head, shimmering with soft brown hair, rested in the hollow of my neck, both arms draped around me in an almost hug-like fashion as I led his staggering body home.

His breath was warm against my collarbone, his lower lip grazing over it with every step he took. I dared to steal a glance at him, only to see his messy hair blocking my vision.

"He beats me, you know?" He suddenly spoke, which made me freeze in shock. Beats? Beats? Who beats him? "Grunkle Stan. He gets very angry a lot." He answered, a slight hiccup in his voice. I couldn't help but look at him once more, his brown-blue eyes now staring back at me.

"Is that where you got the scar?" I asked, looking to his left cheek which had a straight line made up of slightly lighter skin. I remembered the day I saw the scar. When we had hung signs and I asked about it, lifting my hand to touch it, only to be pushed away and rejected.

Dipper smiled sheepishly, a hum against my neck which I could only assume was his slight laughter. "You remember that? I thought I had gotten rid of that memory... Perhaps just the last one... With the Gremloblin."

And with that, I was officially frozen once more. I had forgotten all about that. The dream. The daisy. The dolphin. The Dipper. I had to know more. I had to know what he had done to me.

"If you're worried I raped you or something, chill out. I just whipped your memory so you wouldn't remember me killing it. That would've given you nightmares for months. Trust me. I know." Dipper responded... to my thoughts. DAFUQ?!

I let go of him, letting his body crash to the ground with a thud, which I instantly regretted. But I was in a mood and wouldn't be turned into the bad guy. Not now. "I DIDN'T GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO ENTER MY MIND!" I shouted, Dipper's head bobbing from side to side, trying his best to keep it from tumbling off his shoulders. "Well, I didn't give you permission to think of me like that. You have some very strange fantasies about me..."

My face burned crimson red, remembering the late night thoughts and the early morning daydreams I had about him. Some romantic. Some inappropriate. Some embarrassing. Some degrading. He had seen them. God knows how many he'd seen. And, Lordy Lou, I had a lot of them.

"You sure did." He hiccupped, letting out a slight laugh as he smiled at me. "Shut. Up." I spat, more embarrassed than I had ever been in my entire life. Dipper rolled his eyes, giving off one of the sexist smiles I had ever seen. Not cute. Not beautiful. But sexy.

It was then that I realized just how different he seemed. He had himself lazily propped up by his elbows, his legs spread in an uncaring manner, his hair covering one eye while the other housed a gorgeous shade of brown, and his smile plastered on like a Cheshire cat.

"Don't worry. I give you permission." He finally let out, his face smug as ever. "Um... What?" I replied, looking at him. He didn't respond. Instead, he lifted himself to his feet, a bounce in his step as he staggered upwards. His head continued to lull from side to side as his balance fought to become even, his face pressing near me. His eyes seemed to vibrate, the alcohol still vibrant in his veins as he shuffled towards me in a blind shift of weight from one foot to the other.

His lips were pinned back in a sharp grin, his snow-white teeth bare, as if ready to chomp down on my neck. I knew I should back up, give him space to spaz out in his drunken state of delusion, maybe tire himself out, but I couldn't. I had never seen this from him before, and I wasn't sure I wanted to either.

But, a strange part of me, a simple whisper in my ear, told me this was the most of Dipper I had ever seen. Maybe this was who he was, not some contained proper teenager, but a boy. A freakish boy. Maybe he was who I needed to know. Not the cover up. But the real deal.

"I hope this isn't me. Stan would hate this thing." He spoke after a moment of silence, followed by a hollow laugh which held no true humor to it. "He hates me, you know. It's because I killed her..." And suddenly he was quiet, fear beginning to pulse through my blood. Did he just say killed?! What? Who? How? HOW?! What the heck?! WHAT THE FHJDFSJKFSDJKSDFJKKFKF?!

Dipper seemed slightly smug, looking deeply into my eyes, his body suddenly swirling in one place as his feet tangled in a dance determined to keep up right. He was weak. His legs were shaking, sturdy yet clumsy, only to give out under their own weight. He collapsed in my arms, his own wrapped around my neck as he began to breathe heavily.

"I killed her." He continued, confusion plain on my face as he spoke. "Stan tells me it's my fault she died. So, why wouldn't it be true?" Once more, he let out a pacified laugh, burning against my ear just from the pure alcohol infused into his very breath. I gulped, my arms tightening around him as I began working up the courage to ask a burning question I had myself.

"Who?" I asked, trying my best to break away from him and look directly into his eyes, only to feel a limp body in my arms. He seemed like pure flesh, no spine, no bones, no senses. Just pure flesh, sagging in a depressed state of self-loathing.

Suddenly, I felt a shake from him, a shiver, a quiver, a weak squeak from his very bones which I instantly took notice to. His shoulders were vibrating. His breath began to hitch, ever so slightly as he continued to breath, now much more softly. His arms tightened around my neck, to the point of suffocation, it felt like. My neck, his face pressed harshly against it, grew moist with tears. He was crying.

"Mom..." He whispered yearningly, a voice left behind long ago as a child, a tone which only a true child, one with irrational fears and wondering eyes, could achieve. A child which looked to no one else but a mother for guidance. A child which lost his guidance...

"I killed her... I had to have killed her... I was always a bad kid..." He sighed out harshly, hitches and hiccups plaguing his every word as he spoke. "I pushed her over the edge... Stan says I worked her to death... Two kids... Dead beat father... No money..." He continued, mumbling into my shoulder, letting every word which filed through his brain drip sluggishly past his gorgeous lips.

Dipper paused for a moment, a soft, shaky breathe the only thing filling the silence. "You don't care though, do you...?" Dipper questioned mournfully, quickly dropping his arms from around me to his sides. He stepped back, his eyes plastered to the gravelly road, his arms wrapping around himself as a sudden cloud of darkness seemed to pass over him.

His eyes, once a beautiful brown, began to glow an icy blue. His entire face seemed illuminated by the sheer brightness of his glowing orbs. "I-I-I killed h-er. I- I had -to. No no no no no no- It's- It's my fault. She's - I killed her- I-" Dipper began to babble, pulling in armfuls of air to his lungs as he continued, as if he had no idea how to comprehend it.

He continued to walk backwards, only for his back to hit a light post. He hunched forwards, letting his hair cover his face, his hands gripping furiously at the roots of his hair, ready to begin pulling out fists full. Suddenly, the words stopped, loud gasps for air all that could be heard, only for Dipper to let out a sudden scream. A scream of frustration, of depression, of loss, of sadness.

It was agonizing just to hear it, the pure sorrow swelling up within his straining voice. I had no idea what to do, my legs wobbly and my hands shaking, afraid of what he may do if I tried to comfort him. But, still, I had to do something.

My legs, rubber noodles shaking like Jell-O, shuffled towards him in an attempt to seem strong and reliable. But, really, I was scared. I was scared of him. Dipper, still hunched over gripping the roots of his hair, abruptly stopped screaming, as if someone pressed a button to silence him. He shook for a moment, removing his hands from his head to begin gripping at his sides once more, his legs wobbling. He collapsed. His limp body fell to the earth in complete silence, a hopeless scene apparent in that moment.

For a second, I feared he had somehow dropped dead right before me, only for him to continue his hitched breathing, tears rolling off his face in heavy streams.

He curled up into a ball, his hair draping his face like a gloomy curtain. In that moment, something overtook me, as if I could feel him. His very emotion emanating off of him, filling me to the core. I rushed to his lifeless form and skid on my knees just to get to his eye level quicker. My knees protested as the rough rocks ripped the very flesh off my bones, but I hardly noticed as I reached his side. "Dipper!" I gasped in a whisper-shout, shaking his shoulder in an attempt to get a reaction from him.

"Dipper!" I repeated, shaking him more vigorously with each shout I let out. He shook hopelessly, his body only tightening as I tried my best to snap him out of it. Time went by, two or three minutes, when my shakes began to slow to a stop. They soon became a soft rocking of his body, a soothing lull to calm his cries as the tears persistence.

The occasional whimper escaped through the cracks in his shaking breathe, to which I shushed away in a motherly manner. The crying didn't slow, the tears continued to soak the concrete by which he laid, hushed yet heard by my ears. And only mine.

"Dipper..." I spoke once more, after a moment or two of long silence. There was a pause, a hitched intake of air and choked sobs, before he let out a quiet 'hm', to which I assumed was my invitation to speak. But, it occurred to me, I had nothing to say. I had no way to relate to him, to comfort him, to understand his pains. So, I said nothing.

I sat there for a moment before I grasped his face, pressed soullessly against the road, and lifted in softly atop my lap. His eyes, closed as if he were asleep, were red and swollen from tears. His face was placed upright to the sky as I rearranged my body to lay against the light pole, his head resting horizontally on top of my lap.

I brushed the hair out of his face, his birthmark shining bleakly to the sky, all of it's original energy and mystery suddenly gone. Just like Dipper's. Silence fell over us, Dipper lying with dried white streams on either cheek, my hand reflexively going back and forth, back and forth against the soft tips of his hair, listening to nothing more than his calmed breathing.

A sudden hum startled me. A hum which I could only recall from childhood memories as a love song about playing in the sand and buying a pony. 'We were playing in the sand...' the song would begin. 'And you found a little band...' it would go on.

The very hum of his voice seemed to sooth me more than I had previously thought possible, hearing the low and sedated tone within him. "You told me to buy a pony but all I wanted was you..." I heard him let out, almost apathetically, as he finished his hum with the final verse. I looked down at his face, his eyes still softly shut as if he were dreaming, only for him to open them, baring his chocolate eyes to the world.

His face was so depressed and emotionless for a moment it looked like he might burst into tears again. But, he didn't. Instead, he looked directly into my eyes, a sudden realization of who he was with and what was happening. It was strange, his face glowing a bright red which only infuriated his brown eyes as he looked back up at me.

Within seconds, I was leaning down towards his face, his lips a clear target for my view. I looked down at him, his face turning a darker shade of red with every inch I slipped past. I was a mere inch from him, our lips grazing over each other, my lips perpendicular to his as I closed in the final centimeter between us. The kiss, soft and warm, was strange. But only for a moment.

I felt warm this close to him as I kissed him and, slowly, he kissed back. I felt strange, how it made me so happy when he took in quick, short breaths, how his saliva mixed with mine with every lick his tongue gave my lips. And how sorrowful I felt when he stopped kissing back.

He froze, a sudden darkness cast over his eyes as a realization his him: I was not his girlfriend. And, in that moment, I seemed to make the exact same realization. His palm pressed the center of my face as he shoved my head away from his, Dipper letting out an awkward and troubled laugh. "I- I think I'm sober now. I should get home." He smiled shakily, pure fear and paranoia present on his face.

He shot up off the gravel, reflexively lifting me up as well without even thinking. "This has been fun but, I really should get going. I'm sorry miss Southeast for wasting your time with these shenanigans. You really should get home before someone realizes you're gone." He let out, almost robotically.

He turned away swiftly, his gate confident and powerful, though it was far too obvious he was still drunk from all the vodka. Without thinking, I rushed to his side, locking my arm with his. "I'll walk you home. You're a little..." I began.

"Smashed." Dipper finished for me. I expected him to loosen his grip around my arm, to let go, to push me away even. But he didn't. In fact, he tightened his arm, placing his head on my shoulder. "Hey... Wanna see something cool?" He asked. And, if I could be completely honest, nothing would make me happier than him lightening the mood. I nodded my head cheerily, seeing his face light up with the response. He reached behind my ears for a mere second or two, only to pull out a daisy.


	29. Walking Home (pt2)

"-His name is Clucky!" Pacifica says. I smile rather interested in her tales of her pet chicken which, she hopes, is safe in Californis and not in the bellies of either of her parents. She lights up as the tale continues, not leaving out a single detail. From the shape of its beak to the hue of its feathers to the pitch of its squawk.

She doesn't seem to shy away either from giving a below average impression of Clucky, flapping her free arm in the air as she does so. Her other arm, snapped tightly around my waist as she holds my staggering body up right, is warm against the sides of my muscle shirt.

"Well, enough about my life! Tell me something about you!" She beams at me, and for a moment, my heart is absolutely swelled with sudden appreciation for her. I return the beam as best I can, though the woozy nausea in my gut prevents me from an ear-to-ear grin. I begin to lean more easily against her, allowing a little less space between us.

'It's safe here' I think to myself. And it is. It feels safe her. Safe on this dark street, lit by the yellowed glow of street lamps. Safe for my drunken mind to wonder, my brain to fuzz up, my goofy smile to last. It feels safe. I feel safe. I feel-

"-Sick." I say out loud before throwing up on the pavement, the sickening shades of muddy drinks and slimly stomach acid racing over my tongue with a nauseating after-taste. Pacifica gasped in shock and surprise, watching the puke splatter and set on the paved road. It made a repulsive *slosh* sound, at which I threw up again, this time an inescapable reflex of the nerves, my breath hitching, my shoulders bunched up, my eyes shut as I regurgitated lunch. I let out a drowsy 'ugh...' my right arm draped around Pacifica's neck now, holding me up to keep from falling face-first into my own puke.  
"O0oh my God, dude!" She said, looking at the mess I made. Her arm tightened around my waist as the scent of my insides rose to her nose, causing both her and I to wrinkle our noses in disgust. I was disguised. I was disgusting. And, in a way, it was liberating. I felt fresher. My stomach no longer ached, but was merely uneasy.  
"Oh... My God..." I muttered, my eyes tracing over the scene I had made. "Can we-" I began, only to feel myself tilting back, my head dreamily floating towards the stars and I lost all feeling in my neck. My body sloshed side-to-side as Pacifica wrapped her arms around me in a panic, managing to keep my body up right. "Dude!" She bared, "Let's take a break for a sec." She dragged my body towards the street's curb, setting me down far away from the filthy mess I had made earlier. "Jesus... I'm a real mess, Paz." Pacifica gave out a small 'hmp', bearing a soft smile in return to my statement. "Well, you're much more put together than I am."  
"I wish. You've got your whole life together. I don't even have a life." I responded with a playful tone, although the truth behind it was painfully close to reality. "Stan's gonna kill me when I get home." Pacifica turned her head, looking at me worriedly. I pretended not to see it. She looked disturbingly worried, like I was a child about to fall out of his caar seat. Instead, I looked at my shoes, tracing the outlines of their sewing patterns. Every thread, every curve, every delicate detail followed to a "T". I wished I could be like that. I wished I could be that well put together, sewn and pieced into a perfect replica, like every other brand. I wished I could be worn and put away and no one would worry about me. Or... was that not what I wanted?  
Well, I'm not a shoe. Instead, I'm drunk. Jesus, I'm a real mess. "Hey. You want some gum?" I turned my head just a little bit. Just enough to see Pacifica scrounging around in her pockets, sure she had some with her. "I mean- It's not bubble gum or whatever. That stuff's 'too sugary' for my braces or something. So, all I have is weird ice-mint whatever's that are Kinda nasty." She holds the gum in the palm of her hand sheepishly for a moment. I take it. I look over the foiled rap, mashed up a bit, like it had been in the pocket for ages. he smell was fairly powerful, reaching my nose before I had even unwrapped it. I loved that smell. My mother always brought gum like this on her walks, stashing it deep within the corners of her fanny pack, which also consisted of tissues, lip balm, and a couple of coupons.  
I put it in my mouth, and it was just as I remembered: Potent. I looked at Pacifica who placed the other piece in her mouth as well, giving off a sour look. "My parents only let me eat this kind of gum. They think other flavors are bad for me 'cuz they have more sugar or whateves." She scowled. I nodded my head in response, letting out an agreeing "Mmmhhh." It felt weird. I wasn't doing anything worth sild. I wasn't egging houses or crashing a party or driving a car on the freeway. It wasn't like what I had seen in teenage movies. Yet, I think, this is the closest I've ever been to feeling like how they felt. Like a teen without responsibility or worries. Just-... just sitting around. Doing nothing. Saying nothing. But- feeling everything. I felt good.  
And then the police came. It happened so quickly, I couldn't even tell what was going on at first. The headlights were so blinding and the man's deep voice was so assertive. For a moment, I didn't know who was talking and I didn't remember why I wasn't in my room fast asleep at this hour. "Hey kids! What are you doing out so late?!" Sherriff blubs barked. Military man. Worked 30 years in "the core" or whatever. Now, he was a sheriff in some rinky-dink town that no one really cared about. And he was never happy about it. Rumor has it he was kicked out after the alleged accusations about his relationship with his right hand man, deputy Derly, were confirmed. And, let me just re-state this: He was never happy about it.  
"It's TWO in the MORNING, soldier!" The sheriff launched at me, stepping out of the cop car almost instantly. He confronted me with a huff, bending down to my level so he'd come eye-to-eye with me. "...Dipper?" This must have come to a surprise to him, since I hadn't drunk for almost a year. I was never drunk anymore. Not drunk. Not with random girls. Not drunk. Nout out late. Not drunk. Not drunk. NoT Drunk. Drunk. Not. Drunk. Ndru knt. Nud. Drank it is. I drank and not. Not d to driank I drank dno to not I don't. Not drunk. Not-

I woke up to a soft, yellow sunlight through my window. It was so sweet and nostalgic to feel myself lying in this light that I didn't even notice the throbbing pain until I went for my mega-morning stretch Suddenly, the pain was unbearable.  
"God Damn it!" I barked as my muscles reflexively caused me to curl into a ball. I held my head between my hands, squinting my brow together as hard as I could, moaning with pain. And things were only about to get worse.  
"Dipper!" My sister's voice rang, as if my head were inside a church bell. It was agonizing to hear her voice, and I could only pray to work up the strength to tell her to shut the fuck up for a second. But, of course not. She jumped on my bed and nuzzled into my curled body, her back squished up against my chest, squeezing the back of her head into the crook of my neck. "Ughhhhhh." I groaned. I felt bad enough to throw up on her. Mabel did this sometimes. She used to do it all the time with mom. After she got home from work, mother's go to her room and rest from exhaustion. Mabel'd always sneak into her room, though, and curl up in front of her, cocooning herself in mother's arms. And, after mom died, she started doing it to me.  
"Dipper... Are you okay?" he spoke in a soft tone, as if she were still sleepy and was just barely holding on. The sunlight did that to her. It did that to me, too. And, looking in Mabel's arms, I could see the soft pink color of something round and fat: A pig. The pig's sleepy snore was low and gargled, taking in every instance of the light. It did it to Waddles, too.  
"What do you mean?" I asked, a little confused. Some of me thought it couldn't be more obvious what she meant. She knew what was going on with me. She was worried about what was going on with me because she didn't know what was going on with me, and she wanted to. But, part of me thought there was something else. Something... more. Something she knew was going on but just couldn't ask.  
"Yeah. I'm fine. Just sick." I responded. It was a lie. I felt so unbearably painful that it was like I lived in it. It felt like the pain would never go away. But, I knew the pain would be gone eventually. So, why did I still feel like the pain was stronger than I had previously known?  
"You know that's not what I mean. What's going on with you, man? You're acting- depressed." In that split second, I felt a ping. It felt like this space in my heart, that was also separate in body and soul from it. Like it wasn't something being felt. But, something being removed. Like two wires trying so desperately to connect, but couldn't couch each other for unknown reasons. This place is Hell. I felt awful. I felt afraid. Why?  
No. No, I'm not depressed. I'll never be. Never.  
"No. I think I've just been Kinda over-worked lately. That one new girl's kind of a run-around type. I can never seem to find her sitting still, but I somehow end up bumping into her always. Not to mention Grunkle Stan. He's been especially ass-hole-ish, which is normal, I guess." With that, I let out a sigh of annoyance. I'm so- Tired. Always tired. I feel like I'm losing motivation in everything. Pretty soon, I might lose the motivation to even get out of bed. Everything just feels so pointless. I can't believe it's been less than a month since school went out and the private academy of Gravity Falls was closed for summer break. I can't believe it's been less than a month since I started feeling this way. But, maybe it's been longer than that. It's been longer than that since I began feeling like this. Just maybe.  
"So... Pacifica? Like, the blond chick? The crazy girl?" Mabel taunted playfully. Even though her back was facing me, I knew she was giving off that same smile she had whenever she started talking crap about my love life. "You know, I heard she was a real catch where she used to live." She began, but I wasn't really having it. "MABEL..." I groaned in embarrassment. "Can we not talk about her?" I would die of embarrassment if we had to talk about her any longer. It made me feel weird in the gut to talk about her.  
"Well, gees. Didn't know it was such a touchy subject for you." Mabel rumbled, sliding off my bed in annoyance. I saw her, still carrying waddles in her arms, exit the room in a bit of a gloomy huff. And, in that moment, I felt alone. And, bad. Even when mom died, she never pushed me away like that. I wished I could be there for her like she was for me. I wish- *KNOCK KNOCK* I heard the faintest of tapping. At first, I looked to the bedroom door, only to see an obvious gap. I waited for a moment, seeing where the tap may have come from, only to have the shit scared out of me. "DIPPER!" The muffled voice went, and I had never been so confused in my life. "LOOK OUT THE WINDOW!" The muffled voice begged in obvious fear. I turned to my bedside window, only to see Pacifica's face pressed up against the glass. What a fucking retard. "JESUS!" I scurried to the floor before bolting to the side of the window and unlocking it almost instantly.  
She fell through in obvious relief.  
"What the hell are you doing here?!" I demanded in a whispered tone. I couldn't believe this. This wasn't happening. This wasn't really happening. I couldn't-  
"I just wanted to give you something." She beamed, scrambling to her feet. In a moment, she was off of the bedroom floor and looking through her purse. I got to my feet as well, expecting some form of explanation afterword's. "Now, where did I put it...?" She began to mumble, pushing items around in search for her true objective. I began to pick inside with her, only to be caught by surprise. She had found it. In front of her, she held out a cheep-looking pencil , chewed up and battered. And, on top of it, sat a rose shaped eraser.


	30. Dipper's Fault

I was stunned. What a serious idiot. My window was at least twenty-one feet off the ground. Breaking a rib would have been the best scenario, had she fallen off of the window ledge. What a serious dope sometimes. I looked down at her hands, clasped tightly around her offering, a slight shake escaping as her hand muscles continued to tighten.

Her eyes, her brow, everything about her face shouted, at one level or another, in excitement and anticipation. I suddenly felt slightly bad for her. The pencil between her clasped hands, a rose-eraser placed atop it, was strange. It was almost laughable how ridiculous her gesture was, considering how quirky she was to begin with.

However, for some unknown reason, this act of kindness was oddly touching. It almost hurt a little bit, seeing how much she strained herself. Everything in her body, every fiber in her bone and every single follicle on her skin seemed to vibrate with joy, simply offering me this gift.

"...What the fuck Paz?!" I whispered with the most anger I could muster without catching any attention from downstairs. I could see it in her eyes. The spark had dulled a bit, but I could sense a shine of determination behind her buzzing blues. She wasn't getting upset. She was getting me a present.

Her grin weakened for a moment, only to return to it's original position. I could see her hands, however, loosening from around the pencil which she gripped with her life. "I wanted to thank you... for everything. You're a good friend and I-" What the hell is up with her? Sometimes, I swear to God.

"You could have died from that bullshit you just pulled! Do you get how easy it is to get hurt from heights like that?!" I was ready to strangle her. I mean, not like strangle-strangle. More like tightly squeeze her between my arms... Yeah, I was a little scared she was gonna get hurt.

"Jesus Paz! Stop and think for a second next time!" I turned from her, refusing the eraser. I wasn't going to entertain her horrible excuse for a "good" idea. I sat on my bed, opposite to her, resting my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands.

I questioned whether she would attempt leaving through the window (Which is a terrible idea) or exiting through my bedroom door (Which is a mortifyingly awful idea). Instead, I felt a shift in weight on the bed. I refused to look up, but I knew she was sitting next to me, and it was disturbingly comforting.

She didn't put a hand on my shoulder or ask me any questions right away. And, for just a moment, I couldn't even read her mind. In that split second of confusion, I realized what she was trying to do: She was assessing the situation. She hadn't said a word because she was trying to figure me out.

And then, she spoke. "Why are you so protective of me?" I processed the question, refusing to look up and meet her eyes, because I didn't know either. Or maybe I did know... No. I really didn't. "I-... I don't know, bro." I let out jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

Just a little bit. She was silent for a moment and, once more, I couldn't pick up a bit of information from her brain waves. Maybe she wasn't thinking. Maybe that was her method.

If it was, it was actually kind of a genius method. She'd been functioning this long without thinking. I could feel her eyes trailing over me, and it made me feel sick to my stomach, having so much attention directly trained on me. I mean, I had performed for the entire town, but had never had such a personal relationship with someone other than my sister before.

This was different. The attention was personal.  
Another minute passed, and I took the chance of a life time: I looked at her. The second I did, I couldn't look away. Her eyes were large and round and soulful and hypnotizing. And she had tears in them.

They looked so misplaced in her eyes. Her eyes were like God's, but her tears were human. Why? Why was she about to cry? Was it because I refused her pencil?

"Why are you crying?" I can't believe I actually asked that. But, the look in her eyes was so painful. It tore my heart apart in places I hadn't even known existed. A single tear fell from her right eye, and it took every ounce of will power in my body not to wipe it away from her.

I couldn't do this. I had made a mistake allowing her company to linger with me, and now she was in pain. I was in pain. It brought tears to my eyes, seeing her so hurt. And in that moment, even though I hated myself for it, I cared so intimately for her that it frightened me.

She leaned towards me in sorrow, seeing my eyes well up as well. I couldn't help it. With every protest I made in my brain, with every regret, with every fight I put up to deny it, I died inside seeing people suffer.

I wasn't meant for this lifestyle I'd chosen. I wasn't meant to harm people. I died a little with every innocent creature I crushed beneath my feet. And it was even more painful when she was squished like a bug.

I wished I could deny feeling anything, but it really does hurt when someone cries. Her tear, which I had refused to wipe away, landed on the middle knuckle of my left hand. The cracks of my knuckle, whitened and sickly torn, seemed to be filled by her tear.

And, in that moment, I too bared a single tear, and it felt as though a connection had been made. Some strange unpassable wall had been hopped over, frighteningly easily.

I had to push her back over the wall again and remain on this side, my own side. The side that would never be breeched. But, for the time being, I wanted her there. I wanted to be vulnerable and ridiculously pathetic and pitied.  
"You're in so much pain... All the time. I can see it in your eyes."

She leaned closer, and I could smell her breathe. It smelt like the gum we had chewed together the night before. And, for a moment, I wanted to know if it tasted that way, too. She wiped away my tear, and I could feel my face go numb.

I could see, in the reflection on her eyes, my own face, which looked surprised. Surprised by her compassion. Surprised by her kindness. Surprised by her. I saw my eyes and it reminded me how small I felt, and so I shed two more.

I couldn't tell what was happening for a moment, until I was on my back. Pacifica kissed me. It wasn't like last night's. This one was terribly tense.

I could still feel her tears against my skin, her face mashed harshly against my own, and a slight sniffle in the breaths she took through the nose. This was not a kiss of love and attraction.

This was a kiss of loneliness. This kiss was painful and hurt and desperately terrified of everything. I could feel the tears on my face thicken as I took her head in my hands, combing my fingers through her hair. And yes, she did taste like gum. The same gum we had chewed the night before.

I wanted to saver the flavor of her lips, because every inch tasted like how I felt. And, a moment later, she pulled away. Once again, I refused to look at her, afraid I'd see something I wouldn't like.

Her body was bent over me, and her hands were balled up into tiny fists, which she placed firmly against my chest. Her face was pressed under my chin, and I could hear the slightest of whimpers. And, in her whimpers, I just barely made out what she said. " _I know you're hurting. I know it hurts. But please, talk to me Dipper..._ "

Her shoulders bunched up as she choked out a restrained sob. My chest felt so heavy. I hated this, because I knew it was my own fault. Everyone I hurt; my fault. She rolled off of me, and although she tried her best to hide her face with her blond hair, I could still make out blotches of red on her skin.

She was as weak as I was, yet I felt as though comforting her was the most important thing I could muster. My hands hesitated for a moment before reaching out to her. Although she didn't look directly at me, I could tell she saw my actions from through her strands of hair. Without thinking, I brushed the few strands of hair off of her face.

She shied away, if not for a moment, only to allow it once more. I ushered her to sit next to me, although I wasn't sure she was in the mood for talking to me. Yet, I knew I had done or said something to upset her. I just wanted to know what it was.

Her feet shuffled for a moment, determining whether or not sitting down was really an okay thing to do. To reassure her, I pat the spot of the bed next to me, hoping she'd take the spot. She was uncharacteristically shy all of the sudden, scooting up next to me on the bed, her eyes focused on her knees. And, once more today, I had no idea what was going on in her head.

*Pacifica's P.O.V.*

I can't look at him. Everything about him, I hadn't realized it until last night, but he was deeply pained at times. He didn't act different this morning when I climbed through the window, so I suspect he doesn't realize what he did after the sheriff showed up. Well, I do.

~~~ Last night~~~

"...Dipper?" Sheriff Blubs blinked, as if it were too surreal to comprehend. I had never met this man before, but from the looks of things, he knew Dipper. Sheriff Blubs stood there, a stern look on his face.

To be honest, he scared me. But, why wasn't he doing anything? Why wasn't he saying anything? And, more importantly, why wasn't I being handcuffed and shoved into the back of a police car? I looked over at Dipper, hoping for some kind of support or reassurance, only to realize I had completely lost him. His head leaned to the side, as if the weight was going to pull him to the ground.

I couldn't tell if he was blacking out or about to do something incredibly stupid, but I wasn't willing to find out either way.

"Is he-!?" The sheriff began, only to be cut off by the most alcohol-induced laugh I had ever heard. Dipper was cracking up all of the sudden, shaking his head like a freak.

My eyes shifted towards Sheriff Blubs, expecting some kind of a lecture, only to see his right hand squeezing the bridge of his nose in annoyance. He waited for Dipper to calm down for a moment, placing his hands on his hips and fixing his eyes directly on me. I think he has judging me. No. I know he was judging me.

It must not have looked good. And it wasn't good, because I knew it was Kinda my fault. I could have stopped him or intervened before he got wasted, but I just couldn't. And it sucks like crazy knowing I didn't.

Dipper's laughs died down after a while and he sighed a long, drawn out sigh afterword's, finally looking up at the sheriff. "How's it hangin'?" What was up with him? He was fine a couple of seconds ago, but now he was undeniably drunk.

I mean, I guess he was drunk before, but now he was fuckin' smashed. Sheriff Blubs didn't waste a second, striding up to me and Dipper, hands still placed on his hips. He bent down, meeting eye level with Dipper, only to shake his head in disappointment. "You've been drinking again, huh?" Dipper smiled smugly, a mischievous giggle lifting through the air.

"Fuck yes, baby." And with that, he cracked up into laughter again and everything about him went to Hell. He was officially a mess and it was close to impossible seeing him as anything else at the moment. This wasn't the first time? He'd done something like this before? Oh jeez, he's screwed. We're screwed. I'm screwed.

"Are you planning on walking him home or is Mabel on her way?" Wait. What? He wasn't gonna- "Does Stan know about this yet?" Sheriff Blubs asked with worry. And, all of a sudden, the pieces began to come together.

I had never formally met Dipper's great uncle Stan, but whoever he was, the sheriff was protecting Dipper from him. I shook my head in response, hoping I didn't look guilty or sad. Stan didn't know. Mabel wasn't coming to get him. Dipper had to go home and live with both of them. Now I really felt bad for him.

The sheriff didn't say a word. Instead, he stood up, walked to his police car, turned on the engine, and drove away.

Dipper knows the sheriff? How? I mean, if this wasn't his first offence, Dipper may have actually met him several times. But still, Dipper drank? Dipper knew the Sheriff? Dipper cursed? A lot?! Why hadn't I known this? Why didn't he tell me?

I knew almost nothing about him, and the few things I learned about him tonight were alcohol-induced. It doesn't count unless he's fully aware what's going into and coming out of his mouth.

I knew nothing about him, and now I was forced to know something. Anything! I hadn't realized it, but he never necessarily withheld information from me. I just never bothered to ask follow up questions and dig into him as a person. And now, that's all I wanted to do.

"Hey, Dipp-" I turned to my left, expecting to see him passed out on the concrete or something, but he wasn't. In fact, he wasn't anything. Because he was gone. "Shoot!" I cried, bouncing to my feet in an instance. I instantly began to pace around the street, seeing if maybe he had gotten up and collapsed somewhere else.

But he was nowhere to be found. "Fiddle stick! Holy fuckin' Fiddle sticks!" I cried, looking around every corner I could find, calling out his name as loudly as I could without alerting the neighbors, and pretty much trying my hardest not to piss my pants. Where had he wondered off to?

*Dipper's P.O.V.*

It's dark. It's really dark. This street's kinda weird. Like, everything's kinda weird. My face and everything feels really weird. I feel kinda sick.

That song's stuck in my head again. I feel like I should dance along to this song. I feel like I should sing to the song.

 _I-I-I-I've got a migraine. And my pain will range from up, down, and sideways. Thank god it's Friday, 'cause Fridays will always be better than Sundays 'cause Sundays are my suicide days. I don't know why they always seem so dismal. Thunder storms, cloud, snow, and a slight drizzle. Whether it's the weather or the letters by my bed, sometimes death seems better than the migraine in my head._

How does the next part go again? Shit, I love this song.

My head is all buzzy. I kinda like that. I feel like I'm just buzzy. My skin's kinda buzzy, too. Not really. Just a little. I feel uneven. Weird. I think I wanna sit now... Nah.

I wanna keep walking. This street's kinda dark. I don't like it anymore. I wanna go home... Shit. Where's my house again? ' ** _...Over here I'm over here Dipper_** ' I hear a voice. Shit. Now someone's gonna come and kill me.

I turn around a bit, 'cause maybe I can fend them off if I can see their face. I can't really take them on right now, so maybe I could just talk them out of it. Or maybe I won't. I don't know, man. I just want something to eat, to be honest.

"Who's there?" 'Cause, like, maybe they'll tell me? I mean, I don't really see any point in keeping some kind of an identity or whatever, 'cuz they're about to kill me anyways. ' ** _...I'm here_** ' "Yeah, like, no shit Sherlock. I'm not stupid. Where are you?" I'm getting real sick of this dude's bullshit right about now.

But, really, it doesn't actually sound like a dude. It sounds like a girl. Or, like, a lady or something. I mean, she sounds kinda old, but not like old-old. Kinda more middle-aged or some shit. IDK. She just sounds kinda familiar 's all. Maybe I know her? If that's the case, maybe she's got it out for me or something? God damn it. I really can't talk 'er out of killing me.

"Why are you stalking me?" No response. "Where are you?" Still nothing. "Are you gonna kill me?" Sadly, not a word. Damn it. I'm fucked for sure. I might as well keep walking, I guess. She'll come out sooner or later. I might even get a peek at her face before she skins me and wears me as a hat. Maybe some boots?

That'd be pretty cool actually. Like, I'm fashion or something. I think I wanted to be a shoe at one point. Right? Like, people can't leave without me, so they look for me.

Like a shoe. But now, I'll be both shoes. But like, aren't boots more like special occasion shoes or some shit? I'll barely get worn. No one will look for me if I get lost. They'll just settle for some converse and head for the bus. I wonder if they'll ever find my body. Will they? Will they care if they find it?

Will anyone remember me after my lower intestine is fashioned into a pair of socks? I mean, I think they will. But, after everyone I know is dead and gone, I'll have pretty much never existed, right? Why should I care if I die now or later, then? What would that effect? Why should I care at all if she kills me, whoever she is? Should I just give myself up then? Is that what I want to do? To give myself up to her? I... I feel like it is.

How long have I been walking for? Not long, I don't think. However long I was walking before, I've stopped now, and it feels okay to stop. I feel like all of my blood stopped moving and, like, it's all rushing to the base of my feet, 'cause I can't feel the upper half of my body. My arms are just swinging everywhere, I feel.

I feel like I'm gonna collapse. I feel like I want to collapse. But, I wanna know who'll be wearing my boots, first. I feel like I didn't even turn around, even though I know I turned around and I can see my feet moving and I can see the opposite side of town that I was walking away from. But now I'm looking at the town. But it's not the town. It's a thing. Like, a red thing. It's pretty big, actually. Haha. That's what she said...

It's this thing with a face right in front of my face and it's got these sharp teeth that are pretty weird and these eyes that are black where they should be white and white where your eye color should be. I like it.

I wanna touch it, and I think it wants to touch me, too. I can just kinda tell it wants to take me away and never let people see me ever again and I want it to. Her to. Her voice. I know her voice now.

She sounds just like mom. She doesn't look like mom though. She looks really weird for a mom. But, I guess I look pretty weird for a son, so I guess we're even. It's so close to me, I don't know what to do. I could reach out my arm and literally 'boop' it's nose. And I want to. It's chin is long and presses up against the pavement, but it's head as a whole is big enough to still be eye level with me. Is it a kekkashi or something? Some weird goblem spirit?

Something about it's eyes... are so beautiful. It's as if Satan were looking through my soul, and for some reason, I loved looking right back. And, for some reason, I wanted to touch it, too. For a moment, that scene from 'How to train your dragon', where Hiccup touches Toothless for the first time, comes to mind. I thought it was funny. So I laughed.

And then I put my hand up.

I wanted to touch it so badly now. It could be my friend. I think we are already friends. That makes me so happy, 'cause now I don't feel lonely at all. I couldn't feel less alone than right now, in front of this thing, which made me feel like anything was possible. I see it's eyes. It's excited. it wants me to touch it and be my friend, I know it does. I do, too.

"DIPPER! WAIT!" It's Pazzy-poo. I wonder how she found me. I turn to look at her now, and I see a little boy by her side. He's short and fat and pasty and kinda weird-looking. He's panting and sweaty and pretty wet. Haha. That's what she- "Don't touch that thing, Dipper!"

It's Mabel. Mabel's here, too. And she's got tears in her eyes. She starts talking and I see her eyes go all excited and her body starts fidgeting. She looks really nervous and it kinda freaks me out but I'm not listening to her. I've got another song stuck in my head. And for the first time, I feel like I know what this song is actually talking about.

 ** _'There's miles of land in front of us. And we're dying with every step we take. We're dying with every breath we make. And we all fall in line. Stranger's backs is all I see. He's only a few feet in front of me. And I'll look left and right some times. But I'll fall in line. And no one looks up anymore, 'cause you might get a raindrop in your eye. And heaven forbid they see you cry. As we fall in line. And about this time of every year, the line will go to the ocean peer. and walk right off into the sea. Then we fall asleep._**  
That's my song. This is my song. This is my thing. And the thing in front of me is the sea. I know it is. I love the sea. So I touch it, and everything becomes clear.


	31. Leaks

~Pacifica's P.O.V.~  
I had lost him. I swear to God, I had lost him, and it was the most tramatizing thing I had ever felt in my life. "Dipper?!" I had searched for who knows how long, and not even a trace of his presence was found.

For a moment, I was scared that I'd forget what he looked like and his memory would be whipped from my mind completely; Like he had never existed in the first place.

He just seemed to vanish without a sound and I couldn't even do so much as remember what he had worn last. I had to call the police. I had to file some kind of "missing person" poster or something. Maybe get in touch with some of the towns-folk and round up a search party.

Maybe-

"Dipper!?" Far-off in the distance, a muffled whisper in the wind, came the same cry I had presented earlier. A femanin voice, strained with distress and worry, yet also accompanied by a hint of annoyance.

"Where are you?!" Again, the voice called out to him, and for a moment, I reached my hand up towards my jaw to make sure my mouth was closed. Had I said that? No. The voice was too far away and sounded nothing like me. This voice was far more matured, though it was apparent that this was a child. Maybe around the same age as I was. For some reason, it brought me great hope, knowing that someone else was also looking for him. Someone else knew he was missing and maybe they had seen him before disappearing.  
Without thinking, I raced through the streets, keeping my ears atuned and ready to pick up any more indications of this person's where-abouts.

I was gonna find them and we were gonna team up together. Whoever they were, we were gonna find him together: Tonight. "Hellooooo!" I called out to the empty streets, hoping to lure them towards me. With luck, they'd respond and their position would be easier to track down.

However, after I had called out to them, the calls seemed to abruptly stop. I couldn't here a thing from anywhere. Their voice was completely gone. Had I imagined it? Maybe I had said it. Maybe I was the one speeking. Maybe I was loosing my mind.

But, it couldn't be. I couldn't have said it because I know my own voice. I know my voice, and that wasn't it. Whoever was looking for Dipper, they planned on doing it alone. Alone... I hate being alone. Slowly, this town became a tad-bit too small.

The streets seemed to shrink and I could feel it. The word crept over me like a spider: Alone. My heart began to race and I wasn't sure how to react to it. My palms became sweaty and my forehead seemed to throb with nerves and fear.

I could almost see the word on this street. The darkness grew thicker with every breathe I took and I was almost tempted to stop breathing, just to keep it from inching any closer. I spun around in my spot, hoping to find even a single lamp post lit.

And, although I saw them burning just as bright as ever, I felt as though the darkness was drowning them out completely. I was scared. I was sufficating.

And, in the mist of this darkness, I saw a line of lamp posts. Although I knew they didn't shine any brighter than the other hand-full of bulbs, these ones seemed to glow. I stood still for a moment, noteing the path this trail lit: It was the path home.

My brain raced through the mental walk-through: Go down this road, hook a left as the Greasy diner, head straight through the forest, and you'll be home. I knew that was where I would end up if I did. I could feel it in my bones.

The lanterns were guiding me home. And, more than anything, I wanted to get out of this darkness. I wanted to walk home and forget about this soul-crushing feeling I had in my gut. I was ready to leave this town and head farther past the Mystery Shack.

I wanted to get on a bus, go home, and curl up next to my pet chicken. I was ready to leave.  
So, why didn't my feet move?

Why was I still left standing in the mist of this sinking feeling, when I could just walk away? Dipper. I wasn't leaving without Dipper, and neither were they. Suddenly, a burst of courage seemed to fill me to my core, and I was left with the decire to continue my search.

But now, I had someone to help me. Taking in a deep breath, trying to steady my mind, I called out to the voice once more. "Hey! Voice!" I wasn't necessarily sure what to do, but I already knew that I atleast needed to meet up with my new search-buddy.

"I KNOW WHERE DIPPER IS!" With luck, they'd take the bait and be on their hands and knees begging for some input on where he was. However, that wasn't the result. Instead, I was met with yet another patch of silence.

Devistation came in waves. I was still alone. But, so was Dipper.

I would be looking for him, I decided, whether they helped me or not. This town was small, and Dipper wasn't a hard act to follow.

I'd find him whether that jack-ass lent a hand or not. "That's rude." The voice let out with a sigh. My head whipped around in excitement, scanning each corner of the town-walls.

Yet, I saw no one. "Up here dumby." Called the voice, and for the first time of the night, I was beyond words.

Mabel. Right above my head, crouched atop a light post with perfect balance. Underneath my breath, I could hear myself let out a small "Holy shit", gaucking at her.

How did she get up there?  
"I've been up here for a while, you know. Look up once in a while, trap."

On any other day, this would have hurt my feelings immensly, but something was holding me back: She was here. I wasn't alone and she was gonna help me. I could feel it.

"No, I'm not." She replied coolly, slidding down the pole with grace as she mounted her feet to the ground. She leaned up against the pole, perhaps waiting for me to ask her how she knew what I was thinking.

But I knew. She was Dipper's sister. If Dipper could do it, why couldn't she? "Why aren't you going to let me help you?" I questioned. Mabel looked awful at the moment. Her forehead was oiled slightly with the sweat of a nervous child.

Although she was graceful, her hands still seemed to ball up. Her eyes still seemed too squinted. Her face seemed too pale. She was nervous. She was nervoud without him.  
"I don't want it." She said matter-o-factly.

"Whenever Dipper's gone missing, I've always found him. Trust me. This is none of your concern. I got's this." For a moment, she had his face.

Not something supernatural, like his face was plastered onto hers and it looked super freaky. Just- this look. It was sad to see it, and I almost felt like looking away in shame for seeing it. It looked so naked for a moment, the emotion she expressed.

She was descouraged. She almost looked home sick without him. She- She didn't think she would find him. She didn't- "I will find him, you BITCH, so just go back home." She was sour. Her face scrunched up. Her skin turned red with anger.

Her shoudlers bunched up. Everything about her: Angered.  
Or, maybe fear. In a moment, the anger was gone, and Mabel's long thumb nail quickly wiped away a fallen tear. She was more scared than I was.

"You think- You think you know anything about him? He's my brother and I-" She paused, almost choking on her own words. She didn't look at me, yet I could tell she hated me. With those eyes, if she met mine, she'd hate me with everything she had in her.

Mabel sucked in a shaky breath before continuing, and I feared her so much for a moment. "I know where he is..." She let out, and I just about fell to my knees in releaf.

"...YES! Oh my God, thank Jesus! Where is he? Is he hurt? We've gotta go and get him before something bad happens to him!" I couldn't contain myself, and for a moment, I loved her like the world's best sister.

It took everything within my body not to race into her arms and squeeze the life out of her.

"Stop it." My joy was short-lived, looking at Mabel. Fuiry flamed in her eyes as her fists clentched into angered balls of blue. "I- You can't save him, you idiot. It's not so easy."

She bit off the edges of each word, her teeth clentched tightly. Why was she so angry? "You really don't know anything about this town, do you?" She let out an uneasy laugh, shaking her head as she looked to her feet and her blue fists returned to normal.

I said nothing. I just wanted to know, whatever it was, I wanted to know why it wasn't easy. I looked to her eyes, and waited for her to tell me.

For the first time, I actually waited for an answer.

"... He was taken... Sort of." Still, I remained silent.

She would tell me everything if I waited. I knew that. "They're called 'Leaks', demon-like creatures that feed off of the helpless, the innocent, and the gone.

I've never encountered one, but I know he was taken by one. It says so right here." She paused for a moment, reaching into her jacket, blue and stylized with tassles and beads.

Her brow furrowed as she fumbled to pull out the object inside the inner pocket of her jacket. A book, red and dusted, appeared in her hand, the golded sticker shimmering under the street light. A proud number '2', painted in bold black ink, abruptly dominated the scene.

I thought of the same journal I had found a while back, hardly even cracked open or peeked at by my own eyes. This book, however, had been opened and closed many times, I could tell, from the bends and wrinkles in the spine of the book, to the accidental coffee stains over the corners.

I pushed the thought away as soon as it came to mind, afraid. Something inside me, a small voice, whispered bluntly "Trust no one".

I had no desire of letting her in on that. Letting her in on my ownership of this journal.

Something just felt wrong about it. Mabel cracked open the book, flipping hurredly through the pages with speed.

Taking a step towards me, she placed the journal's page in my face, providing the image of some kind of beast. Blackened eyes, hunched back, sharpened teeth which pertruded through the mouth, and two horns, mangled and twisted like tough layers of bark on a tree.

It's face, covered in eyes. Tens of hundreds of eyes, some big, others small. It was disguisting.  
"What... is that?" Was all I could muster.

Even the skin, a muddy red, seemed to crawl with an infestation of children's fear. My eyes scanned over the image, horribly sick to my stomach, yet unable to look away from it. Then, to the side of the image, in the upper right corner, the description read: 'Leaks': (Size: 19'8 - 27'11) (Interests: humans) (Appetite: Sadness)

 ** _My encounter with this leak was an indirect accident, which I hope never again to run into. A partner of mine, often lively and chipper, slowly began to mope around at times of research. I thought little of it, accusing the attitude on a lack of rest and bad eating habits. However, over time, his attitude worsened and he became erritable and lack-luster, which I also dismissed._**

 ** _I found him mumbling to himself, sloshing around the room randomly, and stating his account of hearing someone call for him. Around this time, my research had become too important for me, and so I let the man go._**

 ** _I had already found a new research partner, nick-named 'F', around this time. And, although it was sad to alleviate him of his occupations, I found 'F' more fit for the job than he._**

 ** _About a week later, I received a call from my old lab partner, offering his hand in the research of a new creature he had discovered. He accused this creature of whispering in his ear, beckoning to him, and offering to take him away._**

 ** _At this point, I became worried for the man and quickly joined him at his home. To my surprise, that which he called a monster, was nothing but an empty room. Or, so I thought. Within this room, that which I thought to be a blackened carpet, was actually the shadow being cast by a creature only visible to his eyes._**

 ** _I was fascinated. I offered to help get rid of the creature in exchange for a scan of his brain, which he quickly accepted._**

 ** _I had a flimsy hippothesis, one with little to no evidence to back it up, yet one which entreiged me: Could he see invisible monsters? I couldn't tell for sure, but I wished to test the activity of his brain in order to more propperly diagnose it._**

 ** _We started with the basics, such as simple word games and ink-bloch tests, before moving on to more tecnological examinations._**

 ** _His brain, propperly scanned, was stunningly tainted. Although, at this point, I had not perfected my mind-reading machine, I did in fact take corses in psychology during my high school years._**

 ** _I was mildly formiliarized with the brain's condition while suffering a mentle illness. Pictures and pictures of the brain's activity and the regions within, those which functioned to tell time, read, calculate numbers, and recall memories, were all blotted with dark shades of blue when being scanned._**

 ** _Conclusion: My (ex) partner did not in fact have the ability to see that which is unseen. However, he had something far less enjoyable: Depression._**

 ** _I recalled, for a moment, that he experienced his swift change in mood, from being mopey to enraged. All signs._**

 ** _In addition, this attitude went on for several months, the mentioning of voices not even appearent until this month resently. This creature did not cause his mood; It was attracted by it._**

 ** _Although curious, I urged him not to go near the creature anymore, move out of his house, and make sure that none of his children would get close. For the first time, this man, brod-shouldered with flaming red hair, seemed fearful._**

 ** _He told me that the creature did not bind himself to the room, but rather, followed him everywhere he went. He recalled people walking through the creature without noticing it, while he, on the other hand, was fearful to do so._**

 ** _He said that this thing, whatever it was, wanted to be touched by him. He recalled chills every time he entered a room which the monster followed, and an urge, which he fought off harshly, to feel it's strangly textured skin. I warned him not to touch it, and he nodded agreeingly. However, his condition worsened._**

 ** _This lumberjck-of-a-man continued to sulk and grow moody, both around me and his children. Although I visited him regually for check ups, providing him with medications and support, his demeaner became sour, and he began to refuse my visits._**

 ** _I attempted to brush off his decision to refuse help, only to be welcomed with a call, late one night. One which chilled my bones. It was him, my old partner, out of breath and babbling nervously._**

 ** _I understood little to nothing of what he said in that call, other than the fact that he spoke of his children, his job, and his decesed wife._**

 ** _I became nervous myself, and attempted to calm him, only to be met with a chilling reality when he replied to me 'I want to touch it'. I barked at the phone, begging him to stay away from it, only for the line to be cut off._**

 ** _Half an hour later, he was reported dead. In his hand, he held a bloodied ax, which he bludgened his own torso with, bleeding himself to death._**

 ** _I took into account the possibility of this creature, whatever it was, of framing him. But, why would it do that?_**

 ** _This creature would never be seen, much less persecuted. So, why? In the end, I resolved the conclusion which brought me to tears: Manly Dan had done this to himself. This... Thing, snuck it's way through Dan's brain and leaked this idea into his head._**

 ** _However, it was unreactive to others, those which could pass through him without so much as a thought. And so, it became apparent that this creature could only effect those already under the condition of severe depression and could only take full effect if the participant accepted it. In other words: touched it._**

 ** _I felt awful. I had let a good man go from his job, ignored several silent cries for help, and led him to his grave._**

 ** _And, over time, I began to hear the voices as well. Within two months of this incident, I finally met face-to-face with the creature and was able to get a full analysis of it. It's red skin, accompanied with thousands of crazed eyes, left me speechless._**

 ** _Yet, oddly enough, fascinated. Day in and day out, this creature followed my every move, stopping momentarily only to sniff things and grope at my person, although, for unknown reasons, it could not touch me._**

 ** _I suppose, if that was the case, than I simply had to accept him. He could not touch me, but rather, could persuade me._**

 ** _His whispers meant nothing to me, although his constant following left me paranoid and self-conscience. At times, this creature kept me from focusing and left me consumed in the thought of it._**

 ** _It, in a sense, was leaking into my brain. I spent months with it at my side, watching me sleep, watching me eat, and watching me research._**

 ** _At one point, I became perplexed by his creature's effectiveness. I was with this creature for an estimated eight months, yet Manly Dan died after an estimated two-three months. A second conclusion came to mind: It's effectiveness was dependent on the severity of depression._**

 ** _I was determined in my studies, working day in and day out on something big, yet Dan had little to nothing to destract him, which led to an even greater case than mine._**

 ** _It became appearent what I had to do in order to releive myself of this creature. I became active outside of my cramped basement. I took nature walks, made freinds, and became active in the community._**

 ** _I was really trying to get rid of this illness before the creature got the best of me. And, when that didn't work, I fashioned a plasma gun and shot it._**

 ** _I suppose plasma has some kind of effect on creatures like that, because I haven't seen it since. It scurried off into the woods, possibly infecting other mystical creatures with its influence._**

 ** _I was able to resist it's influence and remain clean of it's touch, yet, at times, I question what would happen if I had in fact touched it. Most likely, I'd kill myself, just as Dan did. But, had there been someone to prevent me from doing so, how would I react...?_**

I was stunned by this. This book, this author, had encountered something terribly frightening. And, if Mabel was right, so had Dipper. "But, why?"

Why weren't we running after him right now, right at this moment, trying to stop him? Why was Mabel so slow to grab him if she knew where he was?

"Probably because I don't have a plasma gun and wouldn't be able to see the leak even if I did." Mabel looked lowsy as she said this, her shoulders slumped, her face branded with a pointing face, and her eyes plastered to the pages of the book.

On the corner of the journal, she tapped the edge of the page, pointing out a small bit of information I had overlooked. *Directions to plasma gun creation continue on journal 3*

"Unless you've got one of these with a '3' on it, you'd be about as much help as I would." And, in a flash of ignorance, I think about the journal.

At home. Unguarded. Literally pretty much never even touched or looked at. And Mabel's face lights up. "...You. Holy crap- YOU!" Without a second thought, I burst past her in the direction of the shack, begging with all my might to reach it before she does.

I refuse to look behind me, but I know she's right on my tail. If it hadn't been for that head start I gave myself, she would have already out run me.

I slide with every corner turn I make, scraping my knees against the paved streets. I heave and burn with every breath I make, my legs pumping with every instance of contact it makes with the road.

I hear her, inches from me now, following with determination and anger as she gasps and spits out "You had it! You H-ad i-i-t!"

I reach the forest, the most terrifying place to be in this situation, only to force myself in. I couldn't let her catch up to me. I couldn't let her get there before me.

A blur. Trees and branches, blued by the night's sky, whipped past me in an instance of speed and adrenaline. I was tempted to stop, to peek behind me, to pray that I had lost her. Yet, still, I could hear her coughing out "You had it", over and over again.

I'm sure her lungs were shredded from strain and exhaustion. I wondered how long she'll keep this up for.  
~Mabel's P.O.V.~  
I'll never give this up. As God is my witness, I'll never stop pumping these stupid girl-legs. I feel my emulate, heavy upon my head, ready to grab for it and put a stop to this madness. But, apart from my frazzled mind and this confusing environment, I don't have enough energy or will power to capture her. So, I run.

I race with all my might, hoping to reach out and grab her by the collar. I just have to get inside before she does. 'That's all this is. That's all this is. That's all this is.' I chant over and over in my head, hoping this'll keep me going, but I can feel my legs give way to the pain. I can feel my breathe grow horse as my lungs become dry and burnt from exhaustion.

My mind, focused on the back of Pacifica, seemed to be completely disconnected from my legs, which pumped with a mind of it's own.  
The forest seemed to go on for miles. Miles. Miles. Yet, as my body swerved and dodged the bushes of this forest in sink with Pacifica's, I found that the shrubbery eventually lessened and the forest's darkness caved in to the warm light of a far off shack.

Bingo-bongo.

The sudden hope of this sight levied some of my exhaustion and gave me a burst of energy, which I quickly used to jump her with. "Oof!" And down she went. I toppled her, trying my best to trample her during my scurry for the entrance of the shack. She pulled as the tips of my hair, managing to obtain a desent fist full, refusing to let go.

Her on the ground, me struggling to wriggle from her grip, I let out a pained scream. We were wasting time. We were gonna lose him if she didn't let go, and she knew that. She must have known that, the trollop.

"What the heck?!" I pull my vision away from Pacifica, focusing it on the shack's porch. A boy, perhaps two or three years younger than us, propped his hands up against his hips with a dissaproving look on his face. I knew that face.

I had only seen it once before, yet I fell in love with it once again. The boy from the magic show. Gideon 3 Straightening myself up as best I could with Pacifica still tugging at my hair, I attempted a gentle smile and waved at him.

"Hi-" The pulling grew more violent and I let out yet another scream. "Q-quick Gideon! Grab the journal before she- can get hold of it!" Pacifica let out with a panic. With a shocked look, Gideon ducked back inside the shack, only to zap back outside with journal 3 in his hands.

"Little boy! Please! I need that!" I begged. "Don't listen to her, dude! She's crazy!" With one final yank, I was off my feet and in the dirt, rolling in confusion as she toppled me.

With a knee to the stomach and a hand in my face, Mabel scrambled to her feet and burst for the entrance. As one final resort, I placed my hand on my emulate, enclosing her in a blue orb. The last bit of my strength, wasted on this stupid girl.

I could hardly believe my life choices at this point, so I just let it slide. She banged on the surface, hoping to weaken it, yet it stayed strong and upright. "Gideon! Give me the journal, I beg of you!" I panted with what little breath I had yet, extending my hand to him in a panic.

"You guys are crazy." I couldn't imagine what he was saying this for. I mean, yeah. Maybe, actually I did. Yet, I asked. "W-What?" I muttered.

"I've had this journal since the beginning of the summer. I'm the only one who's even read it and you guys expect me to give it to either of you? Get real."

I was shocked, and in that moment, Pacifica was furious. "WHAT?! YOU EXPECT ME TO JUST LET YOU HAVE THIS JOURNAL I FOUND IT AND YOU CAN'T HAVE IT I NEED THAT JOURNAL RIGHT NOW IT'S FOR THIS ONE THING CALLED A PLASMA GUN AND WE HAVE TO BUILD ONE TONIGHT BECAUSE IT'S SUPER IMPORTANT AND-" I couldn't take this any longer.

My energy was low as it was, and I couldn't exactly concentrate with all of this yelling.

The shield dropped, and she rushed up to him in a huff. I expected her to rip the journal out of his hands and storm off with it.

I guess that would be better, but I just couldn't bare to see her save him instead of me. I attempted to scramble to my feet and race past her, but she had already made her way up to him. "Gideon! Give. Me. That. BOOK!" She stomped up the steps to him, only to stop abruptly.

My legs were still numb, so I resolved to crawling. I strained my vision to see what had stopped her in her tracks, only to be drawn to what Gideon held in his hands. A gun, pointed at Pacifica. "You want a plasma gun?" I couldn't believe this.

He not only read the journal, but he built a plasma gun in advance, just out of curiosity. "G-Gideon... Where did you get that?"

"I built it, Paz. What do you think I do around here in my free-time?" He smiled cockily.

~Pacifica's P.O.V.~

Without a second thought, I lunged for the plasma gun, only for it to be jerked away from my reach. "What do you need this for?"

We moved into the shack, my body climbing over him in an attempt to grab at it once more, only to be pushed away. I took a second to assess the situation, but all I could think about was Dipper's ticking time bomb.

I don't even know how much time I have left. "Gideon. Seriously. I need that book." With a scowl on his face, he huffed irritadetly.

"It's a journal, dingus. And why do you need either of these things anyways?" In a burst of anger, I could feel my face go red.

I could feel my hands clentch up into tiny fists and my nose scruntch up like a rasain. I was about to teach a bitch a lesson.

"Now, listen here, you good-for-nothing crap-nugget." I advanced on him, taking wide steps as he began to back away slowly.

"This journal, unlike you, has been through pretty much every amazingly daring event possible. Monsters and all. I need that journal for one of those things, and if you don't give me that journal and your plasma gun, we're gonna have a serious problem. Now. Give it."

I continued to advance on him, and he continued to back away, gaurding the book between his two fat, pale little arms.

"Wh-what kind of monster?" I stopped. How much time was left for us? Did I even have time to get Dipper and shot that weird leak-thing? Either way, telling him might make it easier to get the journal from him.

"It's- Well, it's kinda like a suicide monster. It's called a leak, and that plasma gun's the only thing we've got against it." His eyes lit up, as if this were the most amazing thing he had ever heard. "An actual monster? No. Flippin'. Way."

I was surprised with him. Last I checked, Gideon had a greater fear then interest for monsters and goblens and gnomes. I guess, when you have directions (like this journal), it makes you just a tad bit less fearful of monsters, since you now know them.

Their weaknesses, their strengths, what attracts them, what drives them away. I could use that on him. "Yes way. And I need it for a friend. He's kinda in trouble, and that plasma gun's the only thing that can even touch it. Crazy, right?"

I laughed it up, trying my very best to lighten the mood with him. If it wasn't apparent enough, weren't on the best of terms with each other. I looked at him. Absolutely vibrating with interest. I took my chances.

"Alright, well, since I seriously need these things for this crazy monster-dude, I think I'll just-" Yet another grab for my items. Yet another failure.

He stretched them out of my reach, scouling at me. "Oh, for crying out loud, Gideon! What do you even want with those things? I'll give you four...- no - five dollors for your stupid book and an extra two dollors for the gun."

I could tell he wasn't buying my bluff. Honestly, I haven't even gotten paid since I got here. I think Mr. Bud really is using me for free child labor.

"Come ON kid! What do you want for those journals!? I'll literally give you anything! So...- like, just...- ARHHHG!" I don't have time for this. I don't. I really really need to get this plasma gun and get Mabel to tell me where Dipper is before I die of sadness or something.

"Anything?" He looked surprisingly pleased with my response, which I silently kicked myself for, but it seemed to be luring him in. I might have just enough time to snatch that journal up and save him. "Yeah, anything... ~You little creep-boy~"

I whispered the last bit under my breath, just to make sure I didn't blow the sales pitch or anything. With a twistedly delighted grin, he replied, "I wanna come with you, then!" FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK...

~Half an hour later`

"So, where's he supposed to be anyways?" I held Mabel up with my left arm as she sloshed along, still too beat to walk on her own.

Or maybe she was fine, but lazy. Mabel looked irritably at me, grumbling under her breath before giving directions. "Take a left here."

I wondered how she was able to find him, but I guess it made sense. They were twins, so maybe they were, like, connected at the brain? "No, that doesn't work. Now please stop thinking and just walk while I give you directions." She was definitely annoyed with my tagging along, which I guess I can understand.

"Oh boy oh boy this is gonna be so much fun I can't wait to see what this thing looks like this is gonna be totally kick a- I mean this is gonna be totally bonkers when I see this thing for the first time in the entire summer I can't wait..." Yeah. I totally get how she feels right now.


	32. Dipper's March to the Sea

~Dipper's POV~

It's face was smooth, the first thing I noticed when my hand rested upon its skin. An ominous warmth omitted from the creature, as if I were waving my hand just above a lit stove.

It was terrifying to feel such a thing, and yet such an undeniable urge. An urge. What was this urge I had? This strange concept which felt so familiar, yet left me feeling so lost.

I couldn't grasp what I felt, yet, I enjoyed the shear energy it evoked. It was like left over cherry pie in the fridge, if that makes any sense.

Like finding something I wanted, but not in the form that I wanted it in. Death. That's what I wanted. Yet, the concept of finding death in suicide felt... wrong.

It was a sure thing, something you knew wasn't often undone, and it frightened me. I still had so much left to do. I wanted a family.

I wanted friends. I wanted to graduate high school and go to college and be something.

The thought of suicide had popped into my head once or twice, yet I never took it, all because of this undeniable desire to live and create a 'me' that I didn't hate.

A 'me' that was most definitely not me, but someone I'd love to hang out with and get to know. Everything that I felt hopeful of; friends, family, a good job; It all held me close to the ground and tied me to this Earth.

I was always so optimistic of the future, hoping that things would slowly get better, and I'd be happy.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and was rustled from my thought, being twirled around to face an enraged Pacifica and a frightened Mabel.

Once again, I could see their mouths moving and their eyes strained on mine, begging for attention, yet I refused to give them any. I couldn't hear them, and it wasn't because I had another song in my head. It's because she was whispering to me.

" _Dipper. Wanna see something_?" I didn't really care either way, but my head still seemed to slosh from side-to-side, reluctantly peering over my shoulder to take a peek at the creature.

It broke my heart at what I saw. It was momma's face, plastered onto the beast's body, a trickle of tears poking past the rim of her glossed, dead eyed.

Her eyes were poor and pale, yet seemed to trail me just the same without pupils. The corners of her mouth drooped in sorrow, almost clown-like, as a single tear fell from her face. I felt sick.

She was in so much pain and I had no idea why. Her face was so sad. Her face was so... scary.

Her dead eyes, watching my every move, welled up with tears of blood as she stared. Oh God. The blood was so thick. Not slick rolls of watered down blood, mixed with tears.

Thick, clotted, deep red shades of blood, slowly sliding down her face as she watched me, disappointed. She didn't like me anymore.

Maybe I'm just not what she wanted. Maybe I'm just no- "Dipper!" Pacifica shook me, snapping me back to her attention, forcing me to look her in the eyes.

"Where is it?! What did it tell you?!" I put my hand on her cheek. ' _ **It's so smooth**_ ', I thought. Human flesh... I hate how soft it feels. I hate how easily it can be torn open. I wanna rip her face open. I wanna rip her face open. I wanna-

What am I thinking?! "Get away from me!" I push her away, my back bumping into the nose of the beast.

Mom. Beast. Mom. Beast. I crouch under the creature's chin, hoping to be hidden by it's huge body. Hoping to hide my shame.

I cover my face with my hands, wishing to claw away this mask of mine, as if it were made of rubber, held together by glue. As if I could remove this shame so easily.

This face. God, this face. It's sick. I want to look away from it. To deny its many crimes and flaws. Yet, I can't run away from myself.

That scares me more than anything. An uncontrollable shiver is drawn out of me, and I find it unbearable how petrified I am. Of what? What do I fear right now?

Myself. I fear what I have. I fear the power I evoke from within, the things I've done, the things I've had done to me. I can't run away from it, no matter how hard I try to scramble to my feet.

I always manage to trip and get the wind knocked out of me, to be infected, filled, with everything done to me. With everything not yet done to me, but surely to come sooner or later.

A cry, perhaps my own, is heard. I clasp my hands around my own mouth, feeling the open gap which I used to release this cry. _**'Yes. It was me. I made the sound.**_ ' I muffle the sound.

I cast it away as best I can, squeezing my rough hands over the opening of my mouth, preying to God for silence. The webbed area which protrudes between the thumb and the index finger, I bit into it, if not to stifle my screams. Yet, I could still hear it, the pained shriek which slipped beyond my fingers.

 _ **'I feel so powerless'**_ , I think to myself. I feel as though the cries have grown. Or shrunk. I can't quite tell. My head, my brain, feels ready to burst, pooling up with stress. The pressure. How do I stop this feeling? This muscle-stiffening pain, which provides no hopeful undertone, no stopping, no end. End. This word... Something about it feels... Hopeful.

~Pacifica's POV~

He's lost it. By God, he's lost his mind. "Dipper?!" I call after him, hoping to receive some sort of response, whether or not that's even possible at this point.

I assess the situation. Where could that monster be? That's the most important thing at the moment. If we can chase the monster away, we might have a chance of snapping him out of it.

Or, at least, help treat him. I don't wanna get my hopes up but, if things go smoothly, Dipper'll be back to his normal self. Or, whatever I should call how he usually acts.

He's crouched down, a continual scream echoing through the streets at a constant pitch. Why's he crouched down like that? "That's weird." Mabel says, and I know we're both on the same page.

Is he sitting... under it? I turn my body to face Gideon, hoping for reassurance. "Yo! How many shots do we have if we wanna make this work?"

With luck, we'll have enough ammo to make a few oopsies before a direct hit's made. "Did you just ask me how much of an already limited supplies of a very rare element we had left?"

"Good point. Dumb question." Well, geez. It's not like Dipper's gonna tell us anything, and I've only got intuition to guide the gun.

"Mabes! Any way you could read his mind or something? Get a read on its position?" Mabel looks at me with a sneer. I guess that was somehow a dumb question, too?

"All he's doing is screaming. And all the other thoughts he has are creepy images and late-night-thinking stuff. I don't think information like that would be very helpful."

Oh my Jesus. We're literally no help at all. Damn it. God Damn it! "Gideon. Give me the gun." I turn towards Dipper, avoiding Gideon's gaze as I set my target: Right over Dipper's head.

"What?! But I wanted to-" For peet's sake. "Gimme the damn gun, Gideon!" A moment later, I feel a weight in my hand. A cold, slick feeling, yet not glass-like. It doesn't feel quite as delicate as glass. Plastic, maybe? Who cares?

I refuse to take another moment's thought, afraid I'll overthink everything and chicken out. I cock the gun at my target, hesitating if only for a moment against the trigger, only to fire.

There's a pause, an irrational fear that something has gone terribly wrong, only for a green glow to develop at the muzzle of the gun, a strong pressure quickly building up, before releasing and striking what I hope to be the Leak.

The blast stops abruptly above Dipper's head, splashing and splattering, as if prevented to go any farther by a wall of sorts. Though Dipper's screams had not discontinued, I was sure that the Leak was where I had suspected it to be. "Yes! Fuck yes, baby!"

I turn to Dipper, beaming with joy to know he's safe, only to be brought back to reality. We chased away the monster, but the beast wasn't destroyed.

He's still under his influence. And, even if the Leak had been killed, Dipper probably wouldn't be any different. The monster didn't make him this way.

Dipper did. "Dip-bro?" Mabel asked, looking down at Dipper's shivering body. And, as I watched on astonishingly, he stopped screaming. His hands, still clamped to his face, slowly shifted downward to reveal two vibrating eyes, as if they wished to take in every instance of their environment.

As if, for some reason, they couldn't miss a thing, or he'd be dragged away. He was consumed by fear. His eyes, fixated on Mabel, seemed to grow in diameter.

It was as if he didn't even see her. It was like he saw something past her, something that was past everything. I wanted to see what he saw so badly, yet, I only saw her.

He stood, if not wobbly at first, to his feet in an instance. Eyes, engulfed in the black emptiness of his center, seemed to be in a continual state of expansion.

A tear, stained blood-red, dripped from his eye, trailing down his cheek only to land and be absorbed by his muscle-shirt. Dear God. He was crying blood.

"Oh... God, Dipper." I took a step back, clasping a hand over my mouth, begging for my shrieks to be kept under wraps. I mean, I wasn't scared of him. But... Just... eye-stuff. Ew. All gooey and squishy. Did that thing puncture his eye ball or something? UGH. I don't even wanna think about that right now.

"Yo. Dude. What's going on with you? Say something." Mabel seemed desperate. I didn't think she'd be scared enough to even consider a response from him. There was no way he was even conscience enough to understand what she had said. Right?

But then, he opened his mouth, and the words which followed were more frightening that a whole bucket of squishy mushy eyeball guts.

"That which comes from dirt, shall return to dust. Those which are shiny as silver, shall slowly rust. That which is born of the sky, shall be snatched from it. All which is born, will meet a shallow pit. The Earth shall open up, a red sky present, and this child of death shall be the glowing crescent."

Okay. I'm not sure who's talking, but it can't be Dipper. It sounds like him, that's for sure, but everything's off. Not even an ounce of white is present in his eyes now. Instead, he stares on with vacant black eyes which continue to well up with blood. Child of death? This isn't making any sense. I didn't read anything like this from the journal, and chances are, the author would have written down if he had said something like that. So, why was Dipper the one who said it?

I stood their, hands in my pockets, though my demeanor was a complete mess. All I wanted to do was get a response, a word from him.

I wanted to reach out and grip his shoulders. Shake him 'til he snapped out of it. But, I was afraid of him. Yeah. I'm afraid. He could lash out and kill me if he wanted. He could slit my through open with his pointy claws or bite my neck open with his razor sharp teeth.

He could rip off my limbs with his glossed over gaze or break my neck with a snap of his fingers. He could pop my eye balls open and suck the juices out or- There was a sudden twitch from him, one which made me jump even farther back in fear.

He lurched forward, clenching his stomach in a sudden surge of pain, and I could tell what was about to happen. His eyes snapped shut, his shoulders bunching up, just as they had the first time I saw him do this. He puked. Not his earlier intake of beer and other snooze juices.

Instead, an inky black substance which looked to bubble and slosh as it passed his lips and mashed up against the gravel. Instead of being disguised and grossed out, as I had earlier assumed I'd be, I was mortified. What... Is he? What is this? Did it come from the beast, or did it come from within? Within him? This child of death. This crescent...

Dipper stood from his clenched position, woozy as he was, only to begin to tilt. Without a thought, Mabel was by his side, evening him out.

His head lulled, bending forward and sideways, as if confused by directions. Mabel squeezed his wobbling body against hers, prepared to carry his weight home.

She lifted his face, checking for scratches or bruises, infections or further bleeding. Or, something... strange. However, once his eyes opened, they were once again his lovely shade of brown. His head, leaning against her shoulder, peered up to look at her, a smile of pure joy spreading over his confused face.

"May-man?" He mustered, squinting his eyes in order to get a better look at her. In an instance, her face broke out into the same goofy smile as his, and I could hardly see a single difference in their features.

They seemed happier to see each other than anyone else could ever be. Mabel, without hesitation, took his head between her arms and hugged him with a serpent-like grip, Dipper's laugh, although weak, was a sign of absolute joy.

I was overcome with shame. Dipper was a human being, and yet I feared his very presence. Although I enjoyed his company and found him undoubtedly attractive, fear overcame me when things looked rough. I felt sad for myself, and I hated that. I hated how I had looked at him, and, to myself alone, I made myself a promise. Dipper's the only one who needs protecting. I'm up for the job.

~Present day~

~Dipper's POV~

I watched Pacifica, squirming in her seat as she sat down next to me on my bedside. What was she so worried about? All of the sudden, she was acting so protective and weird, and I was afraid of what I might have said after blacking out. There's already so little I remember, and I don't recall what happened after the Sheriff showed up.

Not even a little bit. But, for whatever reason, people were beginning to treat me strangely. That, in of itself, was unsettling. "Paz... What's going on with you? You're acting all weird. Like, what are you even doing right now? What are you even talking about?"

Maybe she was still drunk from last night? No. If there's one thing I know about Paz, it's that she had hardly had even a single drop of liquor last night, let alone her entire life.

I stared at the side of her face as she fought to remain indifferent towards me, refusing to look into my eyes as she spoke. "I... I don't know, , I'm just super worried about you, you know? Like, it's just, like- I mean, you're always so mopey and after last night I-"

She paused, her lips curling into themselves, as if to prevent even a single more word from escaping her. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What?

She couldn't tell me all of a sudden? It wasn't like I had asked about that, but it was her loose lips that said anything about last night, so she might as well just tell me. If it involves me, I think I have the right to know about this shit. "After last night? After last night what?"

I could see a visual stiffening up as she continued to avoid my gaze. For some reason, this left me incredibly pissed.

Like, what? You suddenly can't tell me about shit that seriously involves me?! Jesus, Paz! Come on! I continued to size her up, trying my best to remain calm, but an obvious air of tension began to grow between the two of us.

My fists, squeezed tightly and sweaty on the inside, began to ache as their muscles stretched and grew tighter, yet I refused to let up. The pain seemed to keep me attached to the conversation and calm me. However, my mind kept rushing back and forth, filling in the blanks she was leaving out.

And, to be honest, I wasn't liking how my brain was making out last night's possible outcome. Did she... do something that might make me mad? My ears perked up, hearing Pacifica's lips part, a small intake of air just barely loud enough to pick up.

"It's nothing. You don't want to know."

"Fuck if I don't,. Yeah. I really do wanna know."

The words just kind of escaped me, but I knew I couldn't take them back. Why was she hiding shit from me all of a sudden?

Had I done anything to give her the impression that I wouldn't be able to handle it or something? "No. Trust me. It's not the best conversation starters right now."

"I can't think of a thing I'd find more interesting to talk about at the moment."

"I can."

"Sure you can. But that's not what we're gonna talk about right now."

"Dipper, I just don't feel like talking about this, okay?"

"Well, I do. Someone's gotta have their way in this, and I think I deserve to know."

What was I supposed to say? I hate to get angry with her, but she's not budging. What could I have possibly done that was so terrible?

What could she have possibly done? "Well, damn it, Dipper! It's not exactly an easy topic to give to people! Like, what do you want me to tell you?"

"The truth! That's all I've been asking for! Just fill me in, alright?! People've been acting weird today and I was really hoping that I'd get some fucking answers, okay?!"

She just sat there, stone-fucking-cold faced, maybe checking over my carpet patters on the rug of the bedroom floor. What the fuck is she thinking?!

I can't even make out any of her fucking thoughts, they're going so fast. Damn it. Fucking God damn motherfucker Jesus Christ asshole bitch snake titties.

I'm gonna explode if I don't get some fucking answers. "Well, shit, Paz! At least fucking try!" I stood up from the bed, enraged by her lack of response. What the Hell, Paz?!

I feel a shiver go up my spine and my muscles tense up. ' _ **Stay cool. Calm down, bro. This is all fine. We're fine. She's fine. Everything's-**_ '

"You know, last I checked, you were keeping shit from me, too! So, don't go acting all _high and mighty_ , like you're the only one who's been hurt by this! You hurt me too, Dipper! And I'm trying to understand you, but I don't, okay?! Feels pretty shitty, doesn't it?! You won't give me a damn thing about how you're feeling and all of the sudden you're like ' _Oh gee Paz. I really wanna know. A-boo-hoo-hoo_.' Fuck it, okay?! Just leave the topic alone, alright?! I'm not gonna tell you, bitch!"

I stood there, her words lingering in the bedroom air. I could tell by her expression, she instantly regretted saying anything. And, for an instance, I could make out a few of her thoughts.

' _ **I didn't- Damn. If he'd just open up a bit-**_ ' Well damn, Paz. You're the one who came into my room to give me an eraser. You want answers. I want answers. We all want answers.

But, if you won't even fucking cooperate-! I took in a deep breathe. Calming. Chameleon tea. Rain drops. Bamboo sticks. Ballerinas. Jazz. Ew. Jazz. Just- just some shit to keep me decent.

But I feel like I'm gonna ring her neck-... What the hell am I thinking? No! I don't wanna hurt anyone. I do. But I never wanted to. I just wanna hang around her and be her friend.

I don't wanna-... But, I kinda do. In a way, I wanna get rid of her. I wanna take that blond sheet of hair and swing it by the roots. I hate her. I fucking hate her.

"Get out." "What?" I couldn't tell you what her expression was. I didn't look at her face. Maybe she was mad. Maybe she was disappointed in me.

Maybe that was exactly what she had expected to happen. I don't know. Because I ripped her from the bed and onto her feet. "Get out of my room, okay?"

My hands gripped her arms as I yanked her body up, forcing her to her feet. "Dipper, I'm sorry! I really didn't mean it. I-" "I don' fucking care. Just get out." I hustled her to my bedroom door, gripping the door knob with an intense strength. Only then could I tell how tense I was.

Whatever. I embraced it. The door frame shook as I ripped it open, shoving her into the hallway. "Dipper, wait!" She jammed her foot between the door and the edge of the frame, hoping to prop it open enough to reason with me. But I wouldn't.

"Move." I could tell she was upset with me, but I didn't want anything weird to happen here. I didn't want to hurt anything. I didn't want these deaths.

I knew she had heard about them. The second she entered this town, I'm sure she picked up from a news paper, a local TV station, or a resident of this town, what had happened here.

The unsolved murders. She never even mentioned it to me, yet I knew all along that she had heard about them. Murders. Murders I had committed. Murders ordered onto Mabel and me to commit for Grunkle Stan's own gain. And, sometimes, murders for our own gain as well. And, if she were to continue badgering me, I don't know if I'd be able to contain myself. "Dipper Please! I just wanna-"

"Paz. just leave me the fuck alone." There was a pause. A silence. Then, she slowly slid her foot away from the door, allowing me to close it. As it did, I could hear her shifting her weight in front of the doorway. She was waiting for me to say something.

I pressed my ear up against the door, picking up slight breaths being taken and the occasional sniffle. "Well. Okay than. Call me if you need anything, dude. Uh. Hold on a sec."

There was a ruffle, and I could tell she was looking through her bag for something. A slight rip. A small scribble. The folding of paper. And then, a sliding sound from underneath my door. A single slip of paper. I listened for a moment more, waiting for her to officially leave.

Once she did, I ducked down quickly to retrieve the paper. Unfolding it, I found the numbers ' _297-221-2020_ ', scribbled sloppily, yet she didn't give up the opportunity to sketch out a few criss-cross stars and a dog with laser-eyes in the margins. Goof ball. She was so sweet sometimes. Jesus, I'm an asshole.

Jesus I'm a bitch. I'm a lil' fucking bitch. Damn it. I hate everything right now. Fuck, I hate everything. I hate this room. I hate this carpet. I hate myself.

Stupid fuckin'- I grip at my hair, feeling the tension build up inside of me. ' _ **you asshole. You bitch. You jerk. You failure. You idiot**_ '

I can feel the burning anger inside of me. I can feel so many desires. So many wants and needs to get this feeling out of my system. And, in all, I look towards the window.

The window that Paz had entered through. The same one which, if I look out of it now, I'll see her leaving. Leaving. ' _ **Just leave me the fuck alone.**_ ' I meant it.

I needed to be alone. I needed to collect my thoughts and calm down. But now? Now that my thoughts are all good and collected? I need her. I need a friend.

I feel so lonely. Stupid fucking window. Stupid fucking room. Stupid Paz. Stupid window. Stupid me. Stupid Stan. Stupid window. Stupid ceiling.

Stupid window. Stupid thoughts. Stupid window. Stupid window. Stupid window... What window? That one? I look over at it, still propped open from when she climbed through it. ' _ **That window**_ ' I thought to myself. What about it? ' _ **Wouldn't it be so easy to just-**_ "

Yeah. I-... Guess. I guess it would be easy. But, I've jumped from that window before, and nothing bad's ever happened to me. ' _ **What if I didn't try to save myself from the fall? What if I just hung their in the air and let gravity carry me down?'**_

Good question. What would happen? Would I get hurt? Would I die? Would someone come and save me? Would someone try to save me? How would people feel if I got hurt and died from this height? What would they think of me?

' _ **Wanna find out?**_ ' My feet, hard-pressed on the shagged carpet of the room, begin to move robotically towards the window, thoughts popping into my head as I do so.

Images like Stan, standing over my body, a hand clasped over his mouth in horror. ' _ **He really does care**_ ' Pacifica, hearing from some anonymous individual on the street that I had just jumped.

Her eyes growing wide with surprise. ' _ **Bet you didn't suspect something like that from me**_.' People like Candy and Gideon, shrugging off my death, just as should be expected. My feet make it to the window sill, my hands resting on either sides of the window pain, peering out of it.

' _ **I bet I could do it if I tried. I bet those things would happen. I bet I'd be a lot happier, too!**_ ' I can almost feel the excitement building up inside of me, ready for a new experience. I take one last look at my bedroom setting, feeling almost fearful of leaving it behind.

' _ **Cosset player; Outdated. Bedspread; old-lady style patterns. Manga collection; Nerdy (I should probably burn some of those before I do anything else)'**_

I found worldly possessions, yet nothing worth staying for. I turned back around, facing a beautiful day outside. The sun was shining and the people outside were smiling.

Well boy, were they about to be in for a treat. I could feel myself growing closer and closer to my end, a knee propped up, ready to jump up and over onto the other side. But then, just before I could put the nail in the coffin so-to-speak, another image popped into my head. Mabel.

A memory, more so. I don't know what we had been doing that day, but I remembered how she had looked at me. The background, an autumn scene. A single orange leaf, I could see, fluttered in the scene behind her, out of my field of vision once it was gone.

I saw the image in first person, her smile facing me as we walked who-knows-where. It was like a Gif. A continual, eternal cycle, with the image replaying over and over again. She turned to me and smiled. Then, she turned to me and smiled. Then, she turned to me and smiled. Then, she turned to me and smiled.

Over and over again, the image replayed in my head, and I was brought back to my senses. Fear, creeping up my back as I thought of what I had prepared myself to do just moments earlier, was unbearable.

I pushed myself down from the window sill, breathing heavily. I slammed the window shut, a rattle of its frame threatened its shattering. If anything, I felt more intense than before. More tense. More afraid. More lonely. How I ached for days like that every day. I hurt.

I hurt sometimes, and the emotional pain was something I had never before experienced so violently. It was too real. I was alone. I was-

A surge of energy burst through me, and I found myself punching the wall repeatedly.

' _ **No more thoughts. No more thoughts. No more thoughts. No more thoughts. No more thoughts. No more thoughts. No more thoughts. No more thoughts. No more thoughts. Get out of my head. Get away from me. Stop creeping into me. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.**_ '

I could feel the vibrations of the wall, a continual surge of power present in each of my strikes. I felt my left fist, screaming viciously with pain and protest as the slams became more violent. I could feel it. The warm trickle of blood beginning to leak out as my skin broke open.

' _ **No more thoughts**_ ' It was liberating. _**'No more thoughts**_ ' I had never before felt so in control, so strong. A continual rhythm. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Each one, accurate and in tempo with the rest of them. One at a time, not two. My hand, begging for mercy each time as the punches grew stronger and heavier.

Then, I stopped abruptly. The wall, blood-splotches present in little droplets, had begun to collapse inward with each slam of my fist.

I couldn't afford Stan or Mabel seeing this, but I was revved up enough to do anything to keep the pain going. No more wall-punching.

Someone would hear it. Someone could see the wall collapse, and I needed to scrub off that blood. I turned to the window. Not a second thought. I punched it. My hand went in, caught on some glass, and went out, scraping viciously at my arm. I pulled out a piece still attached to the frame of the window.

Not a second thought. I rushed to the bathroom, which was conveniently placed next to my bedroom, and locked the door. The white tiles. They had never looked so white.

The tub, scrubbed clean by a separate maid of ours. Individual toothbrushes were placed humbly in a plastic red cup; One purple. One blue. I moved them from atop the sink, placing the palm of my hand within the center of the sink's white bowl.

I straightened my arm out, locking in my elbow for a perfect canvas. My left arm, ready to go as it was resting stagnantly in the sink.

My right hand, gripping the glass with such excitement I half expected the glass to draw blood from my hand before anything else. And then, I began.

Death was never the intention and I had never before supported or understood people who did these sorts of things. But now, I did. And it was beautiful. I pressed the shard of glass against my skin for a moment, before slicing directly through.

' _ **Holy shit. I'm actually doing this.**_ ' For the first one, I paused. I looked at the blood, running gooishly down my arm. It was as if a flash of white light had appeared with my first slit.

My first. I saw, for the time being, a thick red line of blood, which had begun at the base of my forearm, now running down to congregate between the spaces in my fingers. To stain the white, shiny sink. A pool, a small pool, began to form.

And that had just been the first one.

Consistently. Consistently. One two one two one two one two, the glass went. It quickly went down my arm, seeking to draw as much blood as possible.

One two one two one two. Consistently. And when the blood had covered the cuts which I made on the back of my arm, I dared myself to turn my arm over and do the front side. ' _ **Do the side**_ ' I thought. ' _ **Do the side with the vein**_ ' I turned my arm over slowly, seeing the faintest coloration of blue, stretching from the base of my elbow to my wrist.

I bent my hand back, examining the blue vein which congregated at its wrist. My wrist. I took the glass, examining it, only to place it over the vein. I wouldn't cut it, but I wanted to imagine how it would feel.

Blood. Splatters of blood. The protrusion of my separate veins, possibly. My tendons, snapped. My hand muscles, screaming. I didn't like this feeling. Yet, at the same time, it was excitement which filled me.

I removed the glass from my wrist, instead switching hands so that I could do my right arm. The same effect left me in undeniable bliss. Or was it not bliss?

More so, satisfaction. Yes. I felt satisfied with my work. I felt the blood, the warm stickiness, oozing over and out of my arm. Some was watery. Some was thick.

Some became like jello as it stood out in the air. What didn't drain away or make it to the base of my arm instead congregated on my person. As jello-like molds of blood, it would maintain its droplet shapes, hanging vulgarly from my arm. Frozen in place.

Disguising smell. It was like opening up a thawed out, 1 LB of ribs, the scent of blood rising up to your nose as you tried your best not to spill it on your clothes.

I turned on the faucet, watching as the hot water blasted on, creating a dent in my ocean of blood. ' _ **The backs of my arms. Not the fronts.**_ '

The water alone wasn't able to brush away the blood in the sink, as I had previously assumed it would, so I resulted to splashing it. Brushing the jello-substance towards the drain as the powerful flow of hot water washed it down. I looked at my arms, seeing the streams which still had not stopped flowing.

Others, only stopping because the blood had dried. However, I knew if I washed my arms, the wounds would bleed open once again.

I lightened the strength of the faucet, resulting in a soft stream of warm water, which I placed my arms under. I looked as the sleeves of the hoodie I had woken up in (most-likely placed on me by Mabel after I puked up that alcohol in front of Pacifica).

A black hoodie with two people on the front of it: One man. One woman. Eyes closed. Black hair. Blood on either of their faces. ' _My chemical Romance_ ' I thought to myself, a dorky smile present as I leaned my elbows into the sink.

I stared at the hoodie, wondering if the blood on the picture was real blood. Maybe I had splashed blood on it? Maybe the blood was mine.

Maybe this blood was all mine... I checked the sleeves of my hoodie once more, a sigh of relief exiting me as I assured myself that blood was kept away from them. I placed my attention back on my arms, a sickly sign of skin present.

Over the slits I had made, I see small strains of skin, which were ripped apart like shreds of cloth. Once I turned off the faucet, a new layer of blood began to expel from my cuts, swirling their way though the now-slick surface of my arms. I leaned over the toilet, quickly grabbing a roll of toilet paper which stuck to my left arm perfectly.

I wrapped the paper around me, the inking of blood present in certain areas, once again pooling up and staining my makeshift bandages. I stared at them. ' _ **Am I satisfied now**_?'

I look to the bathroom floor, small droplets of blood present. I don't wipe them away. Someone'll take a shower and the splatters will get washed away by someone's wet feet on the tiles. I look to the bathroom door, but refuse to leave. I feel too exhausted to go anywhere anyways.

Instead, I roll my sleeves up over my bandages as gently as I can, to keep from blood tainting the insides of the hoodie. I look to the bathtub, deciding to settle myself in it.

My feet, converse from last night still present on them, are kicked up next to the shower's faucet. My head, resting slothishly against the base of the tub, is tilted back, allowing me to stare at the ceiling as much as I want.

And, before I know what I'm doing, the words escape my lips, " _This night... walk the dead. In the solitary style and crash the cemetery gates. In the dress your husband hates. Way down. Mark the grave. Where the search lights find us drinking by the mausoleum door. And they found you on the bathroom floor. Well, I miss you. Well, I miss you so far. And the collision of your kiss, that made it so hard. Back home. Off the run. Singing songs that make you slit your wrists. It isn't that much fun, staring down a loaded gun. So I won't stop dying. Won't stop lying. If you want, I'll keep on crying. Did you get what you deserve? Is this what you always want me for?"_

I like this song. The vibrations of the words feel good against my throat, bent back like this. I sing it. I hum it. I try to whistle it. But, overall, I try to hear it. ' _ **Make you slit your wrists**_ ' Weird.

I want to know what he means by that. No one made them do it. Unless the songs were that sad. Or, maybe the songs weren't what made that person sad.

Maybe the songs just fueled the sadness. I guess that's good. If you run out of fuel, the train'll just break down. And if the train breaks down, what's the point of it at all?

But, I guess too much fuel is back for you. Overworking a train can be bad for its condition. Damn. I like trains. A weird thought, but yeah. I like trains. They're so powerful.

I remember, when I still lived with my mother, I would tell all the kids at my school that I had a train in my backyard. It was kinda true, but even I knew it was mostly a lie. Behind my house, there was a single pair of train tracks, which working trains would speed past on every day.

I remember thinking I'd ride those trains one day. I'd work with coal and spend my days shoveling coal into the mouth of the train's engine. I'd keep that bad boy ticking over.

One time, I remember my mother crying. I couldn't have been more than five or six, but she began talking to me like I was a grown up all of a sudden. She talked to me about payments on the house.

How she couldn't afford it this month. How our bitch-ass father never sent us any money or even showed up anymore. At that age, I still didn't understand what it meant to be a bastard, but by the way mom had talked about it, I knew it was a bad thing. She talked about how hard it was to take care of children on her own.

Then she took a shot. She talked about how badly she had been treated in her father's home as a child. Shot. She talked about how we were ungrateful to her and everything she gave up for us. Shot. She talked about the neighbors and everyone at the grocery store judging her. Shot.

And, in the middle of that, she said, "And your jackass father used to think that riding the rails would solve all of his problems. That's when he left."

My mother had told me that much. We lived near train tracks because that's supposedly what my biological father did for a living. And one day, when he went off to work, he rode the rails as far away as they would take him from us. They weren't married, so he didn't have to worry about coming back, and mother knew he wouldn't, either.

That's when my obsession with trains started. I've grown out of it since, but at eight years old? God damn, it looked like I had just made love to Thomas the Train when you walked into my bedroom.

Except it wasn't Thomas the train. It was real trains. Rusted pictures of clunky silver trains. Trains during the industrial era. Bullet trains in China. Trains covered in graffiti. Posters. Posters. Posters. All over my wall, posters of the trains my father could be riding back home on.

Every day after school, I sat outside, watching the trains go by, imagining my father hopping off of one. I imagined my father crouching down next to me, looking me straight in the eye.

A ' _ **H**_ _ey sport_ ' would come from him, followed by the ruffling of my hair. I remembered seeing it in a movie at one point, and had too little observance of real father-son relationships to understand how overrated and corny that was. Yet, either way, I wished for it.

After a while, I stopped sitting outside to wait for him. He could kiss my ass for all I care. But I still wanted to see him. I was too young to remember his face and mom threw out everything that even resembled him, except for my train-related things, of course.

If he saw this, would he care about me? Would he feel responsible for what I've done? In all honesty, I hope not. I wonder if he'd come to my funeral.

I wonder what his name is. I wonder if he has a new girl now and if that girl has children he actually loves. I wonder if he knows mom's dead. I wonder if I can find him... "Um... Dipper? Knock knock."

A timid voice present on the other side of the bathroom, muffled by the doors barrier. Mabel... Wait. Of shit, Mabel! I wrestle myself out of the bathtub, clambering to the floor as I scramble to cover up the last of my evidence. Shards of glass. Bloodied tissues.

And, even though I said I wouldn't, I wiped up the last few blood droplets. "What are you doing in there? What's all that racket?" I can't keep her waiting for too long, or she'll get antsie. "G-Give me a second, okay?" Fuck. Just one more blood spot and I'll be golden. Just one more...

"Dude. There's glass all over the bedroom floor. Did you break the window?" My heart drops for a moment as I think of the wall I had punched right next to the window. Perhaps she didn't notice it next to that huge display of glass.

"Uh, yeah! Sorry about that! I broke it by accident, but I'll clean it up, okay?" I tried my best to calm down, but everything was moving so quickly. I scrambled to my feet, unlocking the door, so I wouldn't keep her waiting too long.

"Listen, I-" Before another word could escape me, she pulled me in for a mega-Mabel-hug. "You sure you're okay?" I could feel the stings underneath my sleeves, feeling the wrapping rub up against my skin in its soiled state. "Totally." I embraced her, ignoring the scorching pain I received as my arms squeezed her. And, in the back of my mind, I could still hear the words repeated in my head: **Make you slit your wrists.**


	33. Welcome To Wendy's

~Pacifica's POV  
"-And then, he kicked me out! What am I supposed to do?!" Gideon nodded his head, only speaking when I paused for feedback. Other than that, he was completely silent.  
Gideon and I had set up a plan to keep Dipper safe from that Leak-thingy. The eraser I had presented to Dipper, rejected as it was, had been lased with plasma, the only known substance able to keep leaks at bay.

If he didn't have it on him at all times, the leak could creep back on him Or, maybe the deed had already been done? This had been a less-than-ideal thought, but if Dipper had already made contact with the Leak, what was the point?

Did the leak just have to wait Dipper out, or did it already have what it wanted? Either way, it was better safe than sorry at this point.

"I gave him my phone number just in case something happened, but he seemed really nerved. I don't even know if he'll bother calling me at all."I plopped my butt on the wooden floor of the shack, sulking as my words lingered.

My lower lip popped out, trembling as I made myself feel worse. Gideon, pausing for a moment, sighed in annoyance.

"You really that worried about him?" I lifted my head to look at him, sitting atop a barrel labelled Fragile. His head, resting in the palm of his sweaty pale hand, was overcast with a shadow of maturity. He seemed so much older than me all of a sudden. I nodded my head vigorously in response, hoping for some kind of advice.

"Just talk to Mabel about it than." Never mind. He was still younger than me and incredibly naive. "Uh... No. That's literally a terrible idea. Mabel hates my guts and would never talk to me about Dipper." Maybe she'd talk to Gideon, though... "Don't sell her short. She helped you last night with him." "That was a one-time deal. She'd never even open the mansion doors to me if she had an option." What was Gideon's damage? It shouldn't have been that hard to tell how much she hated me.

"Well, how'd you get in the first time, than?" I paused for a moment, recalling the inside of their mansion. White marble. Chandelier. Beautiful people all around me. "How did I slither my way into that beautiful house?' And then, the answer came to me in a shock of shame and annoyance."Candy." Candy's still Dipper's girlfriend, at least by her standards. I haven't talked to her since last night's party. Crap.

If she knew about my feelings for Dipper, she'd probably ruin everything about my summer, and it's only just begun! However, the first time I entered that mansion, it was because she brought me. She brought me to that shimmering mansion. That shimmering palace. If I could just convince her to take me back to Dipper's house, I'd have a chance to talk to him and straighten things out.

'Just leave me the fuck alone'

Those words still rang in my ears and I felt completely useless. How was I supposed to react to that? How do you react to someone saying something like that? I don't know. I wish I did. "Candy? What about candy?" Gideon was still trying to catch up to my train of thought, but I didn't feel like going into detail. I pinched the bridge of my nose, praying for some sort of detailed plan to conveniently see him.

I couldn't climb through the window again. That was too risky. And, if I did, he'd try to bring up questions again about last night, and I couldn't answer those. Not yet. I still needed to rap it around my head as well. I just wanted to have a normal conversation with him and patch things up. He was unstable last I saw him, and with what's going on in his life right now, I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to do something drastic. Just a regular conversation. Nothing more. Nothing less. I needed to get in contact with Candy. Now.

"Yo, Gideon. I'm heading out. If you see Bud anywhere, tell him I'm going to a friend's house, 'kay?" Gideon hopped off of the barrel he was resting on and met me at the door before I could leave. "What about your chore? He might fire you if you don't do your work. Gideon wasn't so bad, now that I had gotten to know him, but he was wasting my time. I didn't know how long I had, let alone Dipper. I scooted him away from the Shack's entrance, turning around to face him. "You do it." I left before he could protest.

If I knew anything about Gideon, which I really didn't, he'd clean up for my half in hopes that I'd pay him back. Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. I don't know. I just need to get to Dipper somehow before something crazy happens to him. The shack, a short walk away from town, had a worn away path of dirt from the continual trotting of feet. A dirt road, leading into town.

I followed the trail, stopping momentarily only to examine the occasional lizard or bug that wondered onto the road. Once in town, I took in the view. This place looked so different in the daytime, I realized. Almost welcoming. The chipped pavement. The close-to-condemned diner. The laundry mat, foggy windows blocking the view to the inside. The patches of children and teenagers, congregating together as nomadic tribes. A blue sky above me, only slightly polluted by the subtle strips of white clouds.

It almost looked peaceful here. I racked my brain, playing over and over again the streets which led to Candy's house. Yet, with each turn I made, I found myself getting more and more lost The town wasn't too large, but the street names were confusingly labelled, with washed out and battered signs, misspelled or mispronounced, or just completely non-existent, ripped away by groups of rebellious teens.

I kicked at the paved road, examining tiny cracks and the occasional dandelion which sprouted from it. I felt like dragging myself home and trying again tomorrow. However, something clung to me. I had asked several individuals for directions, and only a few of them were even able to give me an idea. But, on the empty street of some ripped-off sign, I saw the glint of blazing red hair, matched perfectly with pale white skin. I knew her. I had seen her momentarily at Candy's party and once at the shack.

She was a low-paid, apathetic cashier who almost never showed up for work, except for when she seriously needed the money. Wendy. I had only had one conversation with her, resulting in some seriously harsh feelings. What were the chances I could get directions from her of all people? Maybe it was the hair. Maybe the black clothes on this bright and sunny day. But, something about her just stuck out a huge arrow pointing directly at her. Wendy, on the opposite side of the road, was staring at the window display for guitars.

I stopped abruptly, staring at her back as she trailed over the carefully crafted guitar. A rugged, black, and used one. She placed her hand on the glass and, a smile creeping up on her, waltzed into the shop.

"This is my chance."I scurried over to the opposite side of the road, casually propping open the music shop's door. A slight "ting" was heard as the bell over the door clang with chipper joy. I smiled up to it before taking a look at the atmosphere. Lines and rows of dusted records. Heavy metal. Jazz. Country (ew). A selection of every genre delicately positioned and strategically placed for the customers.

I scanned the walls, a chipped white paint plastered over them. Tambourines, guitars, trumpets, all hanging from the walls as if they were gardening tools at Cracker Barrel. At the counter sat a middle aged man, bold everywhere but below his nose, where he showed off a grayed mustache, which twitched and shook like whiskers. His face was worn, yet he managed a smile as he spoke with Wendy.

I looked at her, not even a glance taken in my direction, as she began to argue with the man. "Give me sixty for it, man. Come on. Hook me up, dude!" Her hair seemed to stand on end as her temper rose. I looked to the guitar she had been admiring outside, through the window. A proud eighty printed in red, followed by a sloppily drawn dollar sign. Wendy was trying to haggle.

"Ma'am. This price isn't up for discussion. Eighty dollars means eighty dollars, and I'm afraid I can't lower it. Now, that's a fairly good price, and I know you know that, too. So, please. If you don't have the money to buy it, than the guitar isn't up for grabs to you." Wendy's face furrowed, a slight redness in her cheeks leaving her as a frightening sight.

She paused, biting her lip nervously before speaking. She placed her palm to the glass counter, staring intensely into his eyes. "Seventy's all I got. Honest. Just give me the guitar and I'll pay you the rest back later."There was a pause. Than the harsh clang of a cash register. Wendy dug into her pockets, slamming the wad of cash onto the counter with a smug smile.

"Keep the change." I pinched the bridge of my nose in response. "Just take the guitar and get outta here." He grumbled, watching Wendy race over to the display case and rip out the guitar in excitement. She looked as if she was holding back a squeal, examining the guitar's surface. Scraped. Scuffed. Black. Cool. A wide smile was expressed on her face as her freckled cheeks grew red with joy.

"Goodbye, sir!" She called back to him before scampering out the door, almost on all fours. With a jolt of surprise, I began to follow her outside as she raced through the streets. I heard the continual laughter of excitement as she cooed in exhilaration, clutching the guitar to her chest. She ran and ran all over town, not even stopping to catch her breath once.

I followed behind her, a scratchy feeling in my throat as the air began to sharpen while I jogged, just a few paces behind her. What was she so excited about? I don't know, but from the looks of the towns' people, they had never seen her like this before either. A sigh of murmurs through the crowd. A whisper. A coughed out sentence. A weirded-out look exchanged between people.

Suddenly, I felt completely exposed, following Wendy. Being associated with her. I felt naked in the public eye like this. But I kept chasing, hoping for a break in between strained breaths. Then, hallelujah, a halt. Wendy panted, her back towards me, her pits painted with cups of sweat under each. She had run out of energy and was now standing still. Perhaps she was just trying to tire herself out enough to calm down. A few more pants, than a cooled sigh. She lifted up the guitar, wet around the areas which she gripped it, and stared at it.

As she did, I began to inch towards her. "Uh... Hey." I tried my best to remain calm, hoping that my exhaustion wasn't too obvious. A swift flash of red hair whipped in front of me, her head snapping around. "Um... Hi?" Then, silence. She stared at me, perhaps waiting for something more. But, in all honesty, I had nothing to say. "So, uh... Yeah. You're that kid from the shack, right? The bleached one?" She let the guitar rest at her side, dangling lazily in her hand. 'She looks like she plays.'

I looked down to my feet, seeing the dust-encrusted tips of my laces. The tips of my shoes played around in the dirt, while I avoided her gaze. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." I could hear it. I was losing her. I needed to come out with something before I lost my chance. Something about her. Something about her reminded me of him. "Yeah. Cool. Anyways, see yeah-" I stuck out a hand as she turned to leave. "Wait! Hold up!" She paused. As did I, and once more, we were met with an uncomfortable silence. I found myself stumbling over my words, picking wisely before I spoke.

"I- um- You know- Do you know- Is he?- How is-... So, you play?" A glint in her eyes told me that was more than enough to get her fired up. "Heck yes, I do." She blew a strand of hair out of her face before putting her fingers to the guitar. Within seconds, the air was filled with heavy notes resembling something dark. Something angry. Something totally beyond my taste in music. But, outside of that, I could at least tell that there were groups of people who would find that type of music enjoyable.

"Yeah. I've been playing since, like, eighth grade. So, I'm pretty much an expert at this jazz or whatever." She cocked a smile at me, and I found myself in a state of embarrassment. I clapped with all my might, showing gratitude and appreciation as best I could for music I didn't understand. "So, the guitar's for you?" I began to back away from her. I had no reason, I realized, to follow her. She was just another hormone-induced teenager with a dream. I'd just have to crawl on my hands and knees and beg Candy to take me to Dipper. "Nope. It's for my protege, Dipper. I've been teaching him since I became his nanny... And got fired."

~One hour later~

"So, you're going to Dipper's house after this, right?" I had been following her around for the past hour, and I could tell she was getting annoyed with me. "For the six billionth time, yeah. Now, stop following me. Seriously, kid. I get your problem, but Dipper's in a rough spot right now. I don't think you'd be good for his... social development."

Well, okay. Rude. "Please! He said he didn't wanna see me anymore, and if he doesn't talk to me, he'll hate me! I just wanna clear things up between us!" I was losing hope in Wendy. If she couldn't take me to him, I really would have to ask Candy for help. I'd hate to have that conversation.

"Look! What do you expect me to do? Even if I bring you to the front door of the mansion, he won't go to see you. Dipper's a solitary bro. When he doesn't wanna see someone, he makes every effort to avoid them, man. It'd be too hard to get to him, even if you met him face-to-face." I looked out the booth's window, seeing the molten sun slowly disappear The sky, a blazing hot pink near the earth, seemed to open up to what was left of the blue sky, soon to be engulfed in the sun's last ray of orange light.

The diner, broken down and chipped at the edges, was close to empty. I saw a single bus boy, rhythmically circling the table tops with a wet dish rag, look on drearily. The night would come soon. I was running out of time. "I don't care." I looked her straight in the eyes and found something odd in her. Surprise. She looked surprised by my actions.

"Really? You really don't care if he turns you away?" She asked me, leaning forward against the booth's table. Her elbows, tucked in at her sides. Her head, leaning in to meet my gaze. Her eyes, blazing. She wanted to know if I was for real. "Or yells or curses or flips me off. I'm there for Dipper, whenever he needs me." I, too, began to lean in, nose-to-nose with her.

Her eyes squinted. Reflexively, as did mine. A moment of silence. A second. The bus boy watched us intensely, begging for us to get out so he could go home. "Can you guys just get out?" No reply. We didn't need to. The bus boy leaned his head back in annoyance, going into the backroom. Nothing seemed to break this hypnotic stare down, until Wendy began to smirk. "You really are crazy about him."

A shy chuckle erupted from her, as she backed up and settled into her seat. "Yes. Yes, I am." I puffed my chest out, though my cheeks burned with a sense of complete exposure. Once again, I felt naked. Embarrassed. Yet, at the same time, relieved to have it out in the open. "Ha! Good. I hate his girl friend. Seriously, that hack kicked me out, 'cause I insulted her. What a spazz. If you got him, I'd worship the ground you walked on, just to rub it in her face." I felt hope resurface. "So... You'll take me?" She placed a finger on her chin, a hum erupting in low cords as she pondered my question. "Well...Yeah. Get in my van."

~Five minutes later~

The car's grumbles were cut off, the seat's vibrations evaporating into thin air. I looked out the murky window, admiring the steps which led to the door. White, pristine steps. I could only imagine how out of place Wendy's van looked. I turned to her, a worried smile enclosing her. "I hope Dipper's okay with me bringing you. If not, It'll look like I'm shaking hands with the devil." She lets out a sigh, full of strain and tension. I saw her left hand, still gripping the steering wheel, shaking with nerves.

"You want me to wait outside for a bit? Talk to them for a while?" "Nah. That'd just look weird. You might as well just come inside with me." And with that, she reached into the back seat of the car, pulling out the guitar, covered lazily with a bath towel and wrapped up with some duck tape. It wasn't too hard to tell what was under the sheet, with the outline of the neck and its fat body at the base. A jiggle of the car door, followed by a kick at the edge in order to prop it open. Trash, falling out in rows, crumbled in buckets to the Pine's paved driveway.

I heard the doors slam shut, sealing my fate. No turning back now. The sun was close to setting, which now invited for crickets and lightning bugs to emerge, free from predator harassment. The sky had transformed from a violent shade of hot pink into a more subdued state of violet. The Pine's driveway, covered pave-to-pave in small stones, glistened with the sun's final attempt of escape from the ever-present fear of night. I watched with sorrow, as the sun became nothing more than a small glint of light, slowly but surely engulfed by the Earth.

And, as the sun sank, so too did my hopes. He hates me. Why am I even here? He'll never talk to me, even if I am making the first move.' My face soured, a shadow casting over my face as I worried myself. I considered just walking home, only for Wendy to bring me back to attention. "Hey." She snapped her fingers at me, a demeaning action which I forgave. "Coming?" She had already made her way up the mansion's steps and was inches from ringing the doorbell. My heart sank and my gut began to squeeze and churn. "This is it."

I sloshed my way over to Wendy's side, a cool sweat developing over my brow. Wendy placed the gift under her arm, an awkward position that would poke anyone in the gut if they walked towards her. I fixed my skirt, patting away the few crumbs my butt had picked up on Wendy's dirty seats. The doorbell, a glossy button with crisp white paint surrounding it, looked as though it had never been touched. Until me.

My index finger reflexively pressed the button, which, as I had predicted, felt dusty. It popped slightly at my touch, as if the edges still hadn't been broken in. A shrill "ding dong" echoed throughout the house, and I soon heard quiet footsteps scurry over to answer the door. A peep hole, placed thoughtlessly on the door, went black as a head was placed over it, someone peering though to see who had rung.

A moment later, the simultaneous click of a lock, followed by the swinging of the door. Warm light spilled out from within, and I soon realized how dark it had become outside. A teenager, no older than Wendy, opened up, a sweet smile upon her face.

"Wendy!" She chirped, her white maid's outfit glistening against the house's light. Wendy smirked, walking into the house without so much as whipping her feet on the door mat, as if she had lived here her entire life.

"'Sup, Tambry? How've things been holding up?" I followed her inside, although it felt embarrassing to barge in like this. I took a look around. Each time I came here, I felt amazed by the cleanliness of it all. But tonight, with the beautiful glow of the house contrasting with the night sky, it looked like a whole other world. Everything shined, especially the floors, which looked newly waxed and polished. The continual work of maids and butlers, vacuuming the rugs and setting the tables, made me feel uncomfortable however, as If I were making a mess everywhere.

"Things have been well since you were let go. The twins haven't been quite as chipper though, I'm afraid. I'm not as fair a nanny as you were." She pouted, folding her hands against her lap as she bowed her head, an air of shame present.

"Nah dude. They're seventeen, and it's like- You're only a couple of years older than them, so it's kinda weird for you to be taking care of them. Nothing's wrong with you. They just- They like more teenager-y conversations, ya know?" Tambry shook her head, denying Wendy's reasoning

"I was never very good with teenagers, even when I was one." Silence fell over the three of us for a moment, making the room feel incredibly stiff. "Dipper and Mabel still have a nanny? What's that all about? They never seemed to need one on the streets.' Quickly, Tambry lifted her head. "Oh, yes! How rude of me. what can I do for you two?"

In an instance, her demeanor had changed, clasping her hands against her chest in optimism. She looked at me, if for a moment, and I could almost see the buzz in her eyes. She was ready to serve others in an instance. With a slight cough to clear the air, Wendy responded.

"We're here for the twins. Can you bring them down?" With a beaming smile, Tambry tapped her way up the steps, as elegant and beautifully as I'd seen before. We stood awkwardly at the door, watching as she made her way up, disappearing behind a wall which led on to the hallway.

~Dipper's P.O.V.

The tissue paper, which I had wrapped around my forearms, had gone stale and cardboard-like as the blood seeped through and dried. I prepared myself to remove the tissue, placing fist-fulls of band aids at my side, accompanied by some rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide.

I tore at the paper, feeling the stiff concrete my blood had made. A slight pain from pulling at it was felt, but nothing more. Once I pulled them off, the tissue paper stripped away the scabs my wounds had been forming, which resulted in the continuation of bleeding.

I reached out my hand towards the band aids, praying that blood wouldn't begin to drop onto my bedspread as I did. Beads of blood began to rise from the cuts. Nothing seriously messy, but I still bothered to wipe both of my arms down with the chemicals I brought with me, before finally patting them down with several bandages. Once I was finished, I felt odd.

I didn't feel comfortable looking at the cuts, even though a part of me was proud for making them, so I got up to put something long enough to cover them./p  
My dresser, placed at the far corner of the room, seemed so far away as I stared at it. What if someone comes in while I'm getting up? What If I don't have time to cover them and someone enters?' I had no other choice, though.

I scurried to the dresser, pulling open the shirt drawer to reveal perfectly folded, pressed, and crease less clothes. I reached in, pulling out whatever my hand touched first, to pull out a grey sweatshirt with the letters "P!ATD" on it. In a nervous panic, I popped my head through it, making sure to slip both arms in before someone could see me. Once the sweatshirt was securely on, I got down to once again hiding the evident.

A space behind my bed, which separated it from the wall, is where I slipped the crumbed up band aid wrappers. The rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide was placed in my dresser, cloaked by a few of my least-worn shirts, which I would never have to worry about the maids cleaning. I turned to the window I had broken, lazily covered by a pair of maroon curtains. The glass, once a sharp threat on the bedroom floor, had been swept up. I placed the shards in a cardboard box, hidden under my bed, the curtain-like protection of my sheets long enough to keep them out of sight.

I'd boil them for safety later, just in case I could get infected. The last bits of glass, too small to cut with or just barely large enough to see, were the bits I went without and vacuumed up. I'd have a new window up soon enough, and Mabel wouldn't even mention it, I was sure. If she did, I'd just have to tell her I threw something without thinking. Even if she didn't believe me, she'd have no way of properly probing my mind. She didn't have as much access to my brain as I did to hers. A knock at the door.

'Beyond perfect timing' I thought to myself, feeling my nervousness melt away, leaving my shoulders relaxed and down. I checked the cuffs of my sleeves, making sure nothing was visible. A tiny slip of a peach-colored band aid was visible on the back of my wrist, but nothing beyond that. A clear "Come in" cut through the silence, and I was almost surprised by my own voice. There was a pause, followed by the entrance of Tambry, my nanny.

At times, I'd complain that I was old enough to look after myself, and Tambry was more like a regular maid with extra pay, if anything. I'd enter the mansion, and she'd great me with a smile and the occasional questioning. A run-down of my day. How things went. And I'd always say "Fine". She'd fix a meal or two, although I preferred to fix them myself. She attempted to step in on Mabel and my life as much as she could, perhaps out of duty. She babied us at times, and it became embarrassing at times.

All the time, actually. She was too close to our age. Too young. She was too cowardly and shy to honestly take care of us or order us around, and she was weak on conversation. But, beyond that, she was a kind person, so I went along with her. I'd "yes ma'am' her out of sympathy, to give off a sense of authority, even though I felt none towards her. She was feeble, I knew, and too awkward to order us around, unless it was absolutely necessary. So, in addition to being kind, she was also easy to manipulate. If she were to be replaced, Mabel and I'd be under harsher observance. So, we bared with her fragile personality. Out of both sympathy and selfishness.

"Dipper. Someone's here to see you." Her eyes lit up, and something felt different about her face. She seemed genuinely happy, and not just happy out of manors. She widened the door for me, ducking her head slightly as she made room for me to pass by. As I exited, she followed, her polished dress shoes "clipping' against the wooded floors. Although she appeared rebellious, a full head of purple hair spouting atop her temple, she was the farthest from being ill-mannered in any way. Outside of being a nanny, she was head maid.

She swept, washed, and vacuumed whatever she touched. At times, she became passionate and would tidy up our rooms, even though we were the soul cleaners of that part of the house. I'd have to remember that, in case she found something negative under my bed or in my dresser. I approached the stair case, a smooth, wooden banister leading downward to what I saw to be Wendy.

"Holy shit... Wendy!" I burst down the steps and into her arms, lifting her up with such enthusiasm that I hardly believed myself. She barked a whole-hearted laugh, wrapping her arms around my head with a squeeze, her chin buried in the top of my head. "Yo! Dude! Dude! You'll never guess what I found!" I dropped her, a stumble present as she found balance again on her own two feet.

I hadn't realized until now, but her left hand held what looked like a lumpy towel, hiding something underneath. Rows and rows of duck tape wrapped around the object, up and down, revealing the exact shape of the present. It was a guitar. "No. Way." Wendy, when she had first been my nanny at twelve, taught me the guitar. Less out of duty and more out of desire. ' _Okay. Put your fingers here and here. Good, man. You're doing good, fella.'_

I played up until sixteen, which is when Grunkle Stan fired her for stealing and broke my guitar for good measure. Not to mention my arm. That's when I stopped playing. My bedroom had never seemed so silent. She shoved it into my hands, buzzing with absolute excitement. "Yes way! Open it, klutz! Open it!" She shone with a smile I hadn't seen so vividly on anyone before, and I almost felt like crying out of gratitude.

I almost did, until I saw who was standing behind her. I leaned slightly ahead of Wendy, getting a better view. Pink jacket, a sun with sunglasses sloppily stitched to it. Soft blond hair, pulled back by a red scrunchy. Her teeth, white and rich with silver braces. And, above all, the most uncomfortable and awkward look I had ever seen on her face, cast down and avoiding my gaze.

"Hey Paz." I lifted a hand with a half-hearted "hello', which she mumbled back with a "hi'. Well okay then. I continued to look at her, watching her face burn in embarrassment. She must have felt awkward intruding on us. Or, maybe it was being in someone else's home. Maybe it was what happened this afternoon. Maybe it was everything. "I didn't care. I knew what she was here for.

All she wanted to do was chew me out for my attitude. She wanted an apology, I was sure of it. Not a chance. I could feel my face sour, watching her continually avoid my eyes. 'Is this some kind of silent treatment? Is that all you're here for? Are you trying to play the victim so I'll feel bad? Paz. you're better than that.'

"Um... Present? Remember?" Wendy pointed to the rag in my hands, covering the guitar bummishly. I smiled weakly, but the feeling had begun to seep away the second Pacifica came. She made me feel gross and uncomfortable, like expressing excitement would be shameful. But, I still wanted to see Wendy as excited as I was, so I tried to pull it together. The tape wouldn't budge very easily, and Wendy had wrapped it several times mindlessly.

I picked at the tape awkwardly 'til it gave and I was able to slice through it and unwrap it. Before me, in my hands, was the most kick-ass guitar I had ever seen. Scuffed. Rugged. Pitch black. Covered in band stickers, which I knew she had added herself. "Holy shit... Wendy, this is-" I was breathless. Completely taken away by the simple sensation of holding it. I hadn't held one for almost a year, yet it still felt as familiar as holding a pencil.

In that year without the guitar, I had picked up the ukulele, which helped a little, but I could never get over the power that a guitar evoked. It felt like I was holding four physical years of hard work in my hands. "I don't-" I felt cold. "...I really don't deserve this. I slumped my shoulders, letting the gift dangle in my hands emptily.

You don't deserve it. You're not worth it. How much did that even cost? What a complete waste of money. You haven't played in almost an entire year. You probably don't even know how to play anymore. And, even if you do, Grunkle Stan'll just smash this one, too.'

I could feel it. A chill going up my spine. I don't need this guitar. I won't have it for long if I take it Why would she buy this for me? she was too nice to me, and I was never even worth it. "Uh, ha! Yeah you do, bro! Come on, play something! Like- like, uh- Teenagers! Dog! You always killed it when you sang that song! And, this time, you've got an audience, too!"

With that, she turned around and slid Pacifica right in front of me. I could see Paz's brows furrow in sadness and shame, and it made things in this room so weird. I looked away from her, as did she, instead fiddling with the individual strings, checking to see which were in tune and which were not. Wendy let out a scoff.

"Come on bro! We haven't seen each other in a year, and you're, like- like my grasshopper-type student thingy for this kinda crap, ya know? Just do something, right? What about 'The house of wolves', by that one British band you like? Or- or, uh,'The light behind your eyes'? Or- OH! 'Dead'! Those were your favorites!" I know. I know. I just- I don't wanna do it. I don't wanna do it in front of her.' I don't know how to play any songs outside of double-meaning songs, and playing that for Paz? I'd be completely naked in front of her. Besides, she wouldn't like my playing.

I noticed the battered black strap attached to either ends of the guitar. I placed one end over my shoulder, placing the other end under my arm, letting the guitar hang from my body.

"I'll do it later." I said emptily, giving her a distant look. If I could just communicate that to her, that I wasn't feeling it in front of Pacifica, than she'd take Paz away. No such luck.

"Oh. You tired or something? Yeah. It's, like, nine-ish, right? Too late for a growing boy, am I right? But, at this point, I wouldn't suspect you can get much bigger than that." She elbowed me in the side, giving me a wink. 'Yo. What the fuck, Richard? She used to tease me like that as a child, which was most-likely why my sense of humor reached farther towards the extreme end of jokes.

On any other day, I would have wink wink nudge nudged her right back jokingly, following up with something even more crass. But, everything just felt off with Paz in the middle of it all. In the end, I got sweaty and red in the face, laughing it off in the most uncomfortable way possible. Followed by my hands grabbing either of her shoulders, spinning her around, and pushing her towards the door.

"Yep. I'm a full-grown boy with a full day ahead of him so I think I need my rest goodnight I'll see you in the morning God speed love ya Wendy bye." I slammed the door shut, pressing my back up against the entrance, letting out a huff of air. I rubbed either of my hands against my face, pulling at the edges in recognition.

That was so weird. Wendy was being so awkward and I was being all stupid and Paz was too quiet to even-/span/em' I looked up, and Paz still stood in front of me. Oh. Yeah.' "Uh, Hey again." All I had to do was move out of the way, open the door, and she'd be gone.

"For how long? Will she come back?' I moved, opening the door enough for her to slip through. Yet, she didn't move. She just stood there, head down, hands clasped together in her lap, like she were showing her respects. "The door's open, Paz. You can leave now." If she wanted an apology from me, she'd have to try a lot harder than that. She stood there. Nothing. Not even a flinch.

"Paz. Seriously. Get out, okay?" I let go of the door, walking up to her. Mabel'd have a fit if she saw Paz here, and Grunkle Stan'd beat me if he thought we were doing something unseemly. Something that could taint the family name. Ironic. I grabbed her shoulders, shaking her./ "Dude. Come on." I began to pull at her, only to hear her blubbering.

"Y-you real-l-ly don't li-like me any m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-ore..." With that, she looked up at me, her lower lip pressing out as far as it would go as her face grew wrinkled and red. She looked like a new-born baby's first cries, and it was absolutely pathetic. It was even more pathetic how hurt I was by her face. Within seconds, I caught myself stammering, searching for words to reassure her. "What? N-no! I don't... not like you. I mean- yeah, I think you're cool and all but-... Why would you think I didn't like you?"

She... wasn't looking for an apology? Or maybe she still was. I don't know. Everything was taking kind of a tilted approach, so I wasn't really on top of what was even going on. "Y-you t-t-t-t-old me to st-ay aw-w-w-way from y-" I got the idea. "Hey. Hey, now. I didn't mean it like that. I was- I was mad and everything was just- I'm sorry." 'There. I said it. Are you happy now?' Suddenly, I was enveloped in her arms, which felt warm and motherly. Protective. Dipper. Don't cry. Don't cry. If you cry you might as well move to China.' I started crying. Now, we were just two incredibly awkward teenagers crying for no apparent reason. And I suddenly felt less lonely.


	34. This is all wrong

**_(A/N: Kinda in a slump right now, with the writing and stuff, so I churned this out in an attempt to start up my creative thinking again. It goes along with the story, and it's a little bit of character development, but It's not too important to read. I mean, It's kinda filler-y, but also not. IDK. You don't really have to read this one, just a heads up.)_**

~Mabel's POV  
~Earlier that day  
The room was a wreck, microscopic glass bits sprinkled across the floor in alarm. I looked to the window, shocked to see a large, spikey hole in it, as if someone had thrown a rock. A fist-sized rock. Had someone broken in? Who could be so daring?

I scanned the room for a moment, taking in the scene. The drawers were closed, and a burglar, I'm sure, would have checked them first. As an added bonus, no one could have survived breaking into this house. No one.

If there wasn't a corpse, there wasn't a burglar. I trotted across the room cautiously, weary of the floor's new warning signs. What was going on?

I sniffed around the room for a moment, only to be stopped in my tracks. The wall, right next to the window, was spotted with blood droplets. They were small, but vibrantly red.

They had already begun to dull into a crusty bronze color, but still stung my nose with a subtle copper smell. The wall was a blossoming white against the red's bold presence, yet, seemed to cave in around the marks. In fact, taking a closer look, that was exactly what had happened. The wall was chipped around the blood dot's edges, devoting inward in some spots.

Had someone punched the wall? Making a fist, I examined my knuckles. Four rows of bumpy flesh. I looked to the wall. Four rows of drying blood. That was exactly what had happened.

My stomach began to churn in anxiety. The night before, the night I refused to remember, was beginning to form. It was beginning to form into reality. The Leak. Dipper's eyes. Pacifica's plasma gun. My fear. It was all beginning to solidify into something I couldn't prevent. I fell to the bed, Dipper's bed, and held myself for a moment.

How long could we possibly hold him down? How long could we keep him from hurting himself? I felt a 'ping' in the pit of my stomach, sitting up. Where had he gone to? Dipper's shirt from last night had been slung sloppily into the waste bin.

A pair of his shoes sat at the foot of his bed. His amulet was right on the night stand, and seemed to grow darker with every stare I presented it. But, where had Dipper left himself? I leapt to my feet, a nauseating woos creeping up my spine with a head rush. I could feel my breathing grow heavy.

I passed the room a moment, before working up the nerve to peek my head out the window. Nobody. That is, no body.

He hadn't jumped, much to my relief, but he was still a lost man. Until, I saw it. A single drop of blood, splurged in the center of the room, beckoned me.

I looked ahead to see another droplet. Two. Tiny droplets, like a spray bottle sprits, led me to the bathroom entrance. In a state of fear, I took precautions and looked through the key hole.

I felt like throwing up. The sink, usually a glossy white, had splotches of blood and dotted tissue paper. Dear God, is Dipper in there? I tilted my head to the left, trying my best to get a full view of the bathtub.

If I was already too late, he'd most likely finish it up with bathtub water. I could feel my heart racing, my cheek pressed crookedly against the door frame. I saw Dipper's face, eyes closed. Skin pale.

His feet were kicked up upon the tub's faucet, his converse' white toes soiled with slight dips of blood. I stood back, my hand clasped over my mouth. I was too late.

I could feel the tears slip down my face in a pattern of heavy drops. I would have to remove his body from the tub. Chills rode their way up my spine, imagining the heavy thump of his body against bathroom tiles if I drug him out. I took in a deep breath. It was all I could do against throwing up.

I placed my hand on the knob, ready to force the locked door open, only to hear a slight hum from within. Without a second thought, I crashed my ear against the wooden door, begging to hear more. Dipper's voice.

He was singing. He was singing and alive and beautifully calm. I clasped my hand to my chest, feeling a relaxed breath soften my tense muscles. I slumped to the floor, my tail bone plopping against the redwood panels.

My head rested against the white board which separated us, and I could feel my heart's pounding subside. His voice was like silk. I remember being so young, yet already knowing that his voice was like no other.

Dipper always had such a lovely voice. I did, too. But, it wasn't like his. It had a softness to it, yet was able to spark you to life. I felt a cold wind swirl through the halls. How quiet would the house be without that voice? God, I didn't even want to think about it. I heard the words of his song, a sick song, which I followed along with in my head. 'Slit your wrists', it said.

Once again, I was on the verge of puking. If he did that... I felt my lip quiver, my finger tips covering the bridge of my nose, down to my mouth. I couldn't let him hear me cry. But, I had to confront this.

I had to be there for him, no matter how little I understood. I stood to my feet, my knees buckling from beneath, turning to face the frosted white door. My hand shook, yet I managed a knock. "Um... Dipper? Knock knock." I felt a lump in my throat, hearing him scramble from the bathtub to the floor. He was trying to hide it from me. No. Not like this. Please don't hide this from me. "What are you doing in there? What's all that racket?"

Like I didn't already know. I could see what he was doing. He scraped off the blood on the sink, washing it down the drain. He shoved glass in his hoodie's front pocket. He got on the floor and began rubbing at tiny blood splatters. "G-Give me a second, okay?" His breathing became hard, and I could just barely make out sweat forming on the back of his neck.

What did he think I would do if I found out? Why didn't he want to share this with me? I could feel yet another set of tears prick at the corners of my eyes, my face growing hot. I thought we were closer than this. "Dude. There's glass all over the bedroom floor. Did you break the window?"

I could feel a throb of pain at the back of my aching throat, trying my hardest not to choke over my words. I rubbed at my face, trying hard to remove as much sign of sadness as I could muster. If he didn't tell me straight out what was going on, how would I be able to confront it?  
"Uh, yeah! Sorry about that! I broke it by accident, but I'll clean it up, okay?"

That was no accident, Dipper. I know that. I know you. God, Dipper. I pressed my forehead against the door pane a moment more, only for it to swing open. "Listen, I-" He began, only to have my arms stop him. I squeezed him tight, feeling his flittering heart beat slow. He was alive. Alive and breathing and beautiful. I couldn't seem to help but be greedily happy that he wasn't dead. "You sure you're okay?" I knew the answer, but to hear him say it would mean the world to me.

"Totally." My heart fell, but I tried hard to pick myself up. I focused on his heart beat. Bump ba-bump. But, at the back of his mind, I could make out just the smallest of words. 'Make you slit your wrists.'

Dipper walked off, and I went into the restroom. He had done a remarkable job at covering up his tracks. Not a drop of blood. Not a shard of glass. Not ever water from where he had whipped up. Reality hit me. Had I not seen it for myself, I would have been completely oblivious to his actions, and thought that this was a normal bathroom.

This bathroom was for washing your body and face, and brushing your teeth, and combing your hair, and doing a whole bunch of other stuff. I wouldn't have been even remotely aware of the one extra use it held. Once again, my stomach twisted in agony, and I fell to the floor with despair.


	35. Nod to the Deal

~Trigger Warning: *Rape scene*~

(A/N: For some of this stuff to make a little more sense and not seem like I'm just pulling all of this stuff out of thin air with Dipper's past, I recommend re-reading the chapter "Dipper's Fault")

The hug was short, but our conversation was long. I couldn't even recall everything we talked about that night, only the feeling. I'd apologies once again, and she'd wave it off with a smile.

She'd crack a joke, and I'd politely laugh. We swapped thought bubbles between each other for hours, seemingly never running out of material.

I talked about Mabel, and she talked about Gideon. I pulled out every possible question I could ask, and attempted to retain every answer. She lives on the sunnier side of California and has a pet chicken.

Her favorite food is sugar. Her favorite color is a rainbow. She only brushes her teeth with bubblegum toothpaste. She puts nutella on her toast. She has a special brush for her stuffed animals, and a special-special brush for her favorites. She's sometimes vegan, depending on what her mom cooks.

Her hair smells like vanilla and I would never in my life ask her why.

Our talk could've gone on for an hour more at least, if I hadn't gotten the call. We were just in the middle of a laugh, when I felt the buzz of my side pocket. I begrudgingly slid my hand in and pulled out my phone. "Hello?" Her voice was eerie, yet seductive. "Hey, baby." My face went pale, her chilling voice raising goosebumps.

Candy. Fucking Candy. Or, more so, I-don't-want-to-fuck-Candy. Pacifica gave me a look, and I could tell she knew who it was. Shit…. Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit _shiiiiiiiiit_.

I responded to her face, mouthing 'I don't know what to do'. She sighed in frustration, pulling my hand with the phone closer towards her. With a clumsy tap, she clicked the 'speaker' button and backed away. Grinning awkwardly, she mouthed back, 'I'll help.'

I took in a breath, readying myself. "What do you want?" I looked at Pacifica for reassurance. I had to make it absolutely clear how I felt towards her. Pacifica gave a small thumbs up in encouragement and shuffled me on. "How's it been, Dipper? Haven't seen you since the party. What've you been up to?"

I leaned into the phone, mildly conflicted. "Uuuuuh…. Stuff? I don't know. Why do you care?" She gave a sighing laughter, amused by my arrogant response. "Oh, Dipper." I could hear the gross familiarity in her voice as she continued.

"You're not still mad about our little talk, are you? I promise I didn't mean it." She sounded sickly mischievous and sweet. I looked at Pacifica, hoping for another thumbs up. Instead, she looked about as lost as I was. She didn't even know what we were talking about.

"Yeah. Sure." I scoffed, hoping to come off as hostile, but she kept pursuing. "What are you wearing?" Fuck. I looked down at myself, before Pacifica grabbed my attention. She pointed all over her body, before putting her hands together and making a sleeping position. "Huh? Oh! Uh… Pj's?" Pacifica smiled wide, happy I got the message.

"I'm coming over." Her smile instantly faded. Her hands crossed in an 'X' as she mouthed 'No' in a whispering yell.

"Uh, no the fuck you're not." I said.

"Uh, yes the fuck I am." Candy retorted.

Pacifica continued to flail her arms and make symbols for things I no longer had time to process. It wasn't until I saw her make a breaking simple with her hands that I got the message.

"Candy, I'm breaking up with you."

Silence took over the line.

"Candy? Did you hear me?"

I heard some rustling in the background, Candy shifting in her bed.

"I'm hanging up, Candy."

As I prepared to end the call, I heard her sour voice bubble over the speaker.

"I'll ruin your fucking life, Dipper."

Her words were empty, but they still struck an ominous cord. Pacifica's face went white, her eyes only momentarily flexing towards me, before flicking back to the phone. She made a motion with her hands, telling me to go on.

"What do you mean?"

She laughed, a short, abrupt laugh of triumph. Whether it was because she had dirt, or because she had sucked me back in, that laugh held a kind of power that I hated more than anything.

"You don't get it, do you? Dipper, I fucking own you. I _own_ you, dumbass! I know all about your family tree and your home problems and that stupid shit you used to do when you were fifteen. I know about your run-ins with the law and all the garbage your grunkle covered up to keep from the public. I know all about your 'live or die' lifestyle when you were a fucked up kid, and I know damn well you've slept with more people than you let on. And, if you don't want that shit getting out to the public, I need you. NOW."

I looked at Pacifica, a blank stare plastered on her face. I raised the phone to my lips, ready to rebuke her.

"Candy, shut the f-" and then, waves. Hands, flailing violently in the air in protest.

Pacifica mouthed, once more, 'NO' with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She needed to talk.

"Uh, Candy? _I'll_ … I'll call you back."

"I'm coming over in fiv-"

I put the phone back in my pocket, looking at Pacifica, still in a state of panic.

"Calm down, Paz. I ended the call."

"You can't!"

Her words echoed throughout the room, viciously ending her silence. I almost laughed.

"Yeah. Yeah, I can, Paz. This needs to end **now.** " I had to put my foot down. If I didn't, this'd never end.

"But, what about what she said? She could ruin your life!"

She was shaking with fear. If I didn't keep this up, it could end my life as a magician. Shit, if I didn't keep this up, Stan's end my life personally. But, God. Was it even much of a life to begin with?

"Pacifica, she's just a bluff. And, even if she wasn't a bluff, it wouldn't be the end of the world."

"Yes, it would! Dipper, you're the town's IDOL. You can't just expose yourself like that. They'd never come to your shows again."

"Half the people here are brain dead to begin with. They'd pay to watch a puppet show at this point."

"Dipper. I know Candy. She's vicious! She'll eat you alive!"

"Paz, you don't have to worry about me, okay? I'm full grown."

"Not to me, you're not. You've still got so much to live for!"

"Woah. I'm not gonna DIE, Pacifica. It's just a bunch of rumors."

"Rumors ruin lives, dude!"

"No, they don't."

"Yes, they DO!"

"God, Paz. Can you just be rational for five seconds? What could Candy possibly do to get me killed?"

"What if your grunkle finds out, huh? What'll happen then?"

"What does grunkle Stan have to do with _**any**_ of this?!"

"He has _everything_ to do with it! So, stop saying he doesn't! It's all because of him that you're so-"

"So _what_?! Huh? What am I?!"

She paused, looking to the floor. I sighed, closing the space between us. "Pacifica." I held her hand, begging her to look me in the eye. "No. I'm not doing this right now. I just can't." I could feel the cuts, burned and risen on my skin. I wouldn't let anyone see them. Never. I bent down, locking eyes. "Do you understand?" She nodded shyly, her cheeks red and her eyes saddened and watery.

"I'm sorry. I know. I get it. It's just- Dipper, I don't know what she's gonna do to you. She'll eat you alive."

"Paz, It's okay. I'm fine. I promise."

"She's coming over in five."

"More like four. Listen, you go out the back door and I'll handle her."

"What'll you use to defend against her?"

"Salt and a cross, of course."

Pacifica smirked, picturing it, only for her face to falter.

"What if she hurts you?"

"Okay, uh- No. Pacifica, she's not a bear. She's a 5'4 girl. Unless she brings a knife or some shit, I'm pretty sure I can handle it."

"You sure?"

"Geez. Have some faith in me, okay? I'm not a baby."

A grin returned to her face, whether or not the fear was still at the back of her mind. Candy was crazy. Candy was influential. And, from what I could tell, Candy had me on a short leash.

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

I re-adjusted the guitar's strap, sticking my hand out to her. She looked at it awkwardly for a moment before grabbing it in response.

"Tomorrow than, cowboy."

"Ha. You're lame."

With that, I bent down and kissed the back of her hand. Just as I did, I heard Candy's car pull into the driveway.

"Shit. Back door. Back door."

I Shooed her off, prepared for the worst. Pacifica scurried to the back door, her eyes locked on me the whole time. This could get messy.

"Diiiiiiiiiiiiiipper!" A wobbly knock at the door, followed by a mischievous laugh. "Open the dooooooor." Ugh. I could see the silhouette of her body through the tinted windows, staggering and uncoordinated.

A bottle in one hand, her phone in the other. I braced myself, waltzing over to the door. Taking a deep breath, I yanked the door open.

"Hi Cand-"

She stormed into my arms as if she couldn't keep on her own two feet. She probably couldn't.

"Hey, baaaaaby." She ruffled my hair, kissing my lips viciously. I quickly pushed her away.

"Candy!"

"Dipper!" She giggled, swaying back and forth.

"Candy. We need to talk-"

"Yeah yeah. You wanna break up. Whatever. Help me open this."

She held out a bottle for me, a mushroom-cork screwed on tight.

"Candy. No. No drinks."

"Aw, why not?"

"Because that shit messes with your head."

"Psh. Whatever. Open it." I sighed, taking the bottle. I knocked the top off, pouring it into a glass for her. She took it from me, her finger smoothing over the spots my hand had held it.

"Let's sit down, Dipper."

"No, I- Woah!" She grabbed my arm, pulling me over to a velvet sofa before sitting me down harshly. A maid or two were still in the room, and I could tell what they were thinking. 'He's back at it again with his old habits. The fucking screw up.' I scowled at my own imagination. They were probably thinking it. If I had my amulet on me, I'd know for sure if they were.

"Candy, listen. This isn't working and I-"

"Oh, blah blah blah blah, Dipper. I know what you're gonna say, so just don't say it."

"No. I _need_ to say this."

"Have some."

With that, she lifted the glass to my lips and was half ready to pour it down my throat. I pushed the glass away.

"No, Candy!"

"Ugh! Why are you so difficult today?"

The maids shuffled out of the room, leaving us to ourselves.

"Well- because you're- You're fucking drunk!"

"You're one to talk."

"I've changed."

"Yeah. I know. I've done my research, Dipper. I know why you stopped."

"Sure you do."

"I do. Trust me, I do. Grunkle Stan broke your arm last year, right? That's why you stopped. Cause he got too scary. One of the maids told me."

"Will you just- shut the fuck up, okay? It doesn't matter. I'm done with that shit, and I'm done with you, Candy."

"Bull shit."

"No, it's not."

"You know, they told me you could down six shots a second and walk right into a fist fight without wobbling."

"Where the hell are you getting this shit from? Are you a fucking stalker?"

"It's who I am. I don't have to sit down and get to know you. It's how everyone else sees you that matters. You're a fucked up dude."

"No, I'm not!"

"Sure, Dipper. Listen, are you gonna spend all night bitching at me or are you gonna chill the fuck out and drink something?"

With that, she lifted the drink to my face once again. I smacked it out of her hand in a fit of anger, seeing the glass shatter into a million pieces.

"What the fuck is with you, Candy?! Don't you get it? We're fucking done!"

And, to my surprise, she didn't respond. Instead, she started crying.

"God. I knew it. I fucking knew it." She began to blubber, and for a moment, I felt for her.

"I kn-ow I'm a bitch, but God. I'm- I'm not trying to. I- I'm not trying to-..."

She buried her face into her hands, a light sob echoing through the room. I felt horrible. I got off the couch, kneeling in front of her. I grabbed her wrists lightly, pulling her hands away from her face.

"Hey hey, Candy. Don't cry."

She pulled her hands away, refusing to look at me.

"No, Dipper. You h-ate me, don't you? You hate m-e-e-e."

Her breathing became shaky, her shoulders bouncing up and down.

"I-I just want-ted to have a drink w-ith you, Dipper. I just-..."

I paused for a moment, leaning in to see her face. A single tear, pure and small, smeared down her cheek. I couldn't believe myself. I'm terrible.

"Whoa. Candy. Yeah. We can have a drink. I'm sorry."

She looked up, her mascara black and ruined.

"R-really?"

I sighed, grabbing the bottle.

"I'll get a cup. But, we seriously need to talk, okay?"

She sniffed, nodding her head. I went into the kitchen and pulled out two more glass cups, this time promising not to break them. When I walked back in, she was dabbing the tears from her cheeks, and I could feel the familiar crush of guilt as I neared her.

"Here." I said, leaning her a glass. She smiled as I poured, never once breaking eye contact with me. I poured my own glass, watching the yellow-gold splash into my cup. And, with that, I could feel myself relax.

"Listen, Candy. We need to-"

"Cheers." She held out her glass to me, waiting for me to tap against it. After this, I knew we'd get down to business. If she'd just stop avoiding it.

"To good health." I said.

"To love." She replied. And, with that, I tilted my head back and drank it. Alright. Down to business.

"Okay, Candy. You and me have been dating for like, what? Less than a month? I think we both know what I'm…" I let go of the glass, letting the remanding bits of liquid seep into the couch. I began to feel weak in the head, my muscles relaxed and mildly unresponsive almost simultaneously.

"Something wrong, baby?" Candy smiled, her hand reaching for my knee.

"I don't- I don't feel good." I leaned into the cushions of the couch, feeling my breath grow shallow. I felt darkness surround me at the corner of my eyes, my focus building up a shaky vibration. I looked over at Candy, her drink still untouched. Come to think of it, she didn't drink the last cup I poured her either.

"Oh, you poor thing." She leaned in on me, her hand rising up my leg as she rested her head against my chest. I felt her, pulling away as well I could, but everything felt so heavy.

"What's- What's going-"

My mind began to race, and I couldn't seem to make sense of anything. I was in my house on my couch next to the girl I didn't love. Why? My head started to tilt as I flopped on my side on the couch. Candy followed.

"It's okay. It's okay." She whispered, her hand continuing to rise as I squirmed. "I think you drank too much." I looked to my cup, the rest emptied out on the couch. I barely had enough for a quick buzz. I didn't even drink it that fast. Not at all.

"Candy. What- What was in- in that?" I felt like cement. I felt slow and thick and drowned in motionless time.

"Rohypnol. Just a little." I could feel myself get sucked deeper and deeper into the depths of shadowed darkness, as if I had fallen into a pool of ink.

Her lips came to mine, and her hand reached the base of my leg as my limbs pushed at her body in protest. Again, she said "It's okay. It's okay." Her other hand reach under my shirt, and finally, the darkness consumed me.

My head jolted forward, the sheets exploding off of me in a tornado of washed out greens. This wasn't my bed. I began to hyperventilate. 'Where am I?' 'What happened last night?' 'Who took me?'

I looked around, completely bewildered, until I felt my chest. I was naked. Then, it all came flooding back. And, just as I did, Candy waltzed in wearing my sweater.

"G'morning." I scrunched up, surprised to see her so bold.

"You-... You- To me, and-" I began to choke up. Candy rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Dipper. You're a guy. It's different for guys."

"NO IT'S NOT!" I hugged myself, digging my nails into my skin. I thought I might pass out again from a head rush, but I was too afraid to lose consciousness around her.

"What is wrong with you!?" I just about stood up, only to remember my clothes situation. I saw my jeans, sprawled at the threshold of her door, my boxers nowhere to be found. I was completely vulnerable.

"You're really gonna give me shit for this? God, Dipper. Grow some balls. You don't even remember it." But I did remember it. I remember feeling powerless and completely dominated by her. I felt weak enough to be sick of myself. I didn't say anything. I just curled up and hopes for a better ending.

"...I'm- I'm telling the police. This isn't okay. This- this is wrong, Candy. And I know you know that. I know you-" I felt my throat tighten, the familiar sting of tears rising in me. I was afraid.

"No, you're not." I looked up, seeing her. Her hands rested on her hips, her head tilted to the side. I didn't bother to ask 'why not.' I knew she had something on me.

"Dipper. Take a close look at yourself." I hesitated, tilting my head down just enough to pear at my torso. I couldn't bare to look past it. My chest held scratches from last night, as well as bruises from Grunkle Stan. My chest was toned, although very pale. I didn't know what she meant. I looked back up, confused.

"Look against, Dipper. Try your arms." And, with that, I felt a burn of shame and fear at once. The cuts. She must have seen them right after undressing me. Before I knew it, the tears poured down and I no longer had control of my breathing. I thought I would definitely black out this time. I looked up at her, a sleek smile across her face, as she jiggled her phone between her hands.

"Yeah. Crazy, I know. And, get this: I've got pictures now." My face went white and I felt the blood drain right out of me.

"Imagine what Stan'll say. Imagine what Wendy or Mable will say. Holy shit. Imagine what _Pacifica_ will say. I bet this'll blow her mind."

I couldn't help myself. I had no other choice.

"Candy. Please, don't. I can't let people see them."

"Oh. Begging. I like it. Buuut, not. I don't work like that. I'm gonna need a little more than self-deprecation."

"What-... What do you want?"

She laughed quietly, crossing over to the bed.

"Oh, Dipper. I want a lot of things. But, if you don't want me to show everyone these adorable little slits, I'll need your obedience. Deal?"

All I could do was what I knew to do. I nodded.


	36. Birds!

I stood downstairs in the kitchen, pacing back and forth over the tiled flood, my phone clutched shakily between my sweaty fingers. " _Please pick up please pick up please pick up…"_

Candy sat maybe fifteen feet from me, and the hairs at the back of my neck stood on end whenever I sensed any form of movement from her. The call went to voicemail. I dialed again. ' _ **This is so fucked up. This is seriously so fucked up.**_ '

I was literally standing in the same room as my assaulter, and I wasn't going to do a goddamn thing about it. Instead, I was calling a friend to have me picked up. The kitchen was silent, hearing each shrill 'beep' as I dialed.

"... So, who are you calling?" Her voice didn't sound suspicious.

It sounded more awkward and casual, like this was just a normal morning. For a moment, I almost felt like answering, only to realize how dry my throat was. And when I remembered just _why_ my throat was dry, I decided I didn't feel like chatting with her.

Instead, I cleared my throat and faced towards the window over the sink. It had rained that morning, leaving behind a murky, depressed blue to litter the sky.

I propped my elbows up on the sink's table top, peering out towards the house's backwoods, the phone's lolled ringing echoing through my ear. The backyard exposed a bit of forest, sprouting mossy-blue trees.

Plump, shaded birds popped up periodically to whistle something sharp and mysterious, almost frantically, as they swirled around in a thickened cluster of meshed black.

Their flapping was frighteningly audible, bashing the tree's branches in a swayed jumble of impact as they launched themselves into the sky. It was depressing.

Suddenly, the ringing stopped, and I was met with a speaker's 'click'.

" _Whaaaat?"_ Answered a groggy voice. I looked to the stove's clock, a bright, neon-green " _ **9:47"**_ blinking periodically. I was amazed at the bounds of laziness she was willing to make, while also having a summer job.

I almost chuckled, before remembering myself. I stood up tall, making sure to take a deep breath. I'd have to sound composed.

"Wendy. Can you-" My voice broke. Fuck. "Um… Can you pick me up?"

I closed my eyes, feeling a burning sensation in the back of my throat. This was literally too pathetic. This wasn't happening. I wasn't calling Wendy to have me picked up. I was calling the police right now, telling them everything that had happened last night, right down to the last detail.

I was going to tell everyone about my problem and about how Candy had attempted to blackmail me with it and how I'd get better because I understood that I was worth more than that and it wasn't something to be ashamed of because I had people there who supported me and would be there every step of the way and Pacifica would hug me and we'd be together living on the sunnier side of Cali-

"Sure. Where are you?" She yawned, the rustling of bedsheets overwhelmingly nerve wracking at the moment. I picked at the cuffs of my sleeve, trying to steady myself.

"Candy's place." I had never said something with more of a red flag in my life. Everything from my tone, to how I phrased the statement, to the volume I said it at. I'm not even sure I can put into words just how miserably I said it.

It really is just something you'd have to hear for yourself.

The line went silent. All I could hear were her shallow breaths break off for a moment, only to kick start again with a fierce jolt.

"You're where….?"

Her rusty red pickup truck fumbled to a holt at the front gates. At the wheel, I was met with a red rat's nest, coupled nicely with an enraged face.

I stood at the door of the house, and, although the gates took no more than six seconds to open, Wendy still found the stamina to beep rapidly at the steel bars as they parted for her. Her truck swerved in front of me, taking pride in giving me a heart attack as the wheels kicked up dirt.

"In. _**Now**_ _."_ Her thumb jammed to the seat next to me, which was camouflaged by empty fast food bags and plastic bottles. I jiggled the door open, pushing the trash aside with my hip as I slid into my seat. Candy watched from her doorway, emptily scowling at her.

I couldn't tell, but from the way her lips were moving, I think she had whispered " _bitch"_ under her breath. Luckily, Wendy was in too much of a blind fury to notice. Instead, she weaved her way out of the driveway and smashed into a potted plant. After that, she bolted through the gate.

The drive was silent, her fists gripping the wheel with undeniable strength. I knew how this would go. She'd wait for me to break the silence with a word or a sneeze or a cough.

Then, she'd blow up at me. As long as I said and did nothing, she'd stay quiet. I reached for my seat belt, buckling myself in. Before I could fix my mistake, the belt let out a sharp 'click' and Wendy went off.

"What the fuck were you doing over there?!" Her neck snapped my way at a perfect 90 degrees, her arms blindly steering the truck. I scooted into my seat with a meek shuffle.

The seat belt strap straightened around me, choking sharply at my throat. I tugged at it thoughtlessly, avoiding her gaze, instead staring out her window. Small, gloomy clouds had begun to congregate above the town, once again coupled with the bleak silhouettes of strikingly dark birds. Soon, it would rain again. Where would the birds go?

"I just went to visit her. She _is_ my girlfriend."

I propped my elbow up, resting my head in my hand as the rustic department stores flashed by on the road. Wendy let out a flustered grunt, her hair swooshing as she twisted her head to face the road. I could hear the leather steering wheel squeak under her vice like grip. She continued.

"Is this going to be a thing with you? This who 'act-like-a-moody-teenager' thing? 'Cause if it is, I think I prefer that stupid 'chivalrous knight' shit you were pulling last I saw you." She took in a breath, trying to steady herself. "Seriously, dude. I thought you were done with that dumb shit. I thought we had a deal."

"We _did_ have a deal." I retorted aggressively. I knew what she was going to say, and it was probably the last thing I wanted to talk about.

"I _thought_ we had a deal. You said you wouldn't fool around with _anyone_ anymore, Dipper. You said it. Not me. And I really respected that, because you sounded super serious about changing. But, then you- _**Dipper**_." She pushed out in an exasperated tone.

"Don't just _fuck her_ because she's there." I took in a sharp breathe. Of course she thought that was what had happened. I turned around sharply, digging my nails into the seat cushion.

"But, I didn't-!" I lifted myself up from the seat, caught in a rush of surprise, only to be stopped by the seat belt. I was slammed back, rubbing at my neck where the belt had chaffed me.

"Dipper. This stuff needs to stop. I'm serious. Remember Nate? The one with the tatts? Remember what I told you about him?" I rubbed my hands over my face in annoyance. I had heard this story about a thousand times.

" _Yes._ I remember Nate." She kept at it anyways.

"He fucked around, too, you know. Almost as much as you did. And you know what happened?"

"He-"

"He got some chick pregnant. Right in the prime of her life."

"I remember."

"Everyone went batshit crazy when the news broke out."

"I'm aware."

"You know what he's doing know?"

"He's working-"

"He's working at a canning factory down south. He's got tax collectors biting at his ass, too. Do you want that for yourself, Dipper? Do you really?"

" _No._ I-"

"No, you don't. So cut the bullshit. You're graduating next year. And your test scores are crazy, right? Top two percent, or some shit? Imagine if someone got ahold of your record. You wouldn't even get into a backup college. You know that? You wouldn't even get into one of _my_ colleges, dude. Do you want that, man?"

"NO! Okay, I get it! _Jesus._ " I folded my arms and slumped into my seat, focusing back on the window again. The clouds had thickened. The birds swarmed in a mesh of raven-feathers, swooping from side to side in a frantic cluster.

"Dipper. Seriously. You need to grow up."

"Oh, and you're the perfect person to teach me how, right?"

I tussled my hair in frustration, covering my eyes with the tips of my hair. I knew I was acting like a bitch. With every fiber in my body, I knew how childish I was acting, and it didn't help my mood knowing it. I felt like every conversation I had ever walked into had ended in an argument, which couldn't have been a good sign. I was most-definitely unpleasant.

"Oh, fuck you. Do as I say, not as I do, okay?" She looked to the glove compartment.

"Open that for me?" She jammed her thumb towards it, keeping her eyes on the road. I paused for a minute, only to rip the compartment's door open and peer inside.

"Pull out the white box." I took in the materials, scanning the scene. A flashlight. A nail filer. A bottle opener. A white box. I pulled it out and tossed it her way without making eye contact. She slipped out a cigarette and reflexively lit it with just the one hand, still driving aimlessly.

"I thought we had a deal about smoking, too." I grumbled. She said nothing. Her driving evened out, her hands now at ten and two. She let out a puff, bunching up in the driver's seat as her muscles tensed. She sighed.

"You know, I woke up pretty damn early for you."

"Yeah. Thank you." I kept my eyes on the window, staring into my reflection's eyes.

"Are you going to keep doing this? Be real with me for a second. What's going on with you, anyways? What aren't you telling me?" I snuck a look at her in the window reflection. Her brow was furrowed and bent upward, an uncomfortable smile cracked on the side of her mouth. "Be honest." Her voice seemed friendly enough, although the worry on her face gave it away.

"I'm fine, Wendy. Just- just tired. For real, okay?" I finally turned to her, trying my hand at a soft grin.

"Well… alright. But, that still doesn't excuse you for doing that. You'd better not be relapsing or some shit, I swear to god…. You're not relapsing, are you?"

"No, Wendy. I'm not." I kept it short. Anything more and I'd give something away. I really wasn't relapsing. I wasn't trying to dick around. My old habits just seemed to… find me.

"Okay, well-... If you ever have trouble with something, you know who to call."

"I know, Wendy. I know." I yanked at my seatbelt again, this time letting loose and freeing my neck.

"You know you can talk to me, right?"

"Yeah. I know."

"And you know you can come to me with your problems."

"I do. Yes."

"And you'll come to we with them, won't you? You won't hold anything from me?"

I paused when she said that. I didn't want to say 'no', but I didn't really think I could say 'yes' either, without making it apparent I meant 'no'. Luckily, I didn't have to say either.

"Wendy…?"

"Yeah?"

"Look out!" I shot my hand out towards the road, a large black figure standing in front of us. Wendy jammed her foot into the breaks, the truck screeching to a holt. My hands reflexively shot out ahead of me, catching my shocked body before hitting the dashboard. In that split second, I found myself taking in the surprise and processing my simple survival. It was such a quick thing. I looked to Wendy, arms stiffened straight out in fear.

"S-shit… Holy shit…" She gasped. I looked to the road, but saw nothing.

"Wendy… Did you-... hit them?" I strained my head above the dashboard, expectantly. This wouldn't be the first time Wendy had hit someone with her car, but there was always a first for killing them. Wendy was definitely shaken, mashing out her cigarette as she steadied her breathing, waiting for someone to pop up from in front of her car and give her the finger. But, no one.

"Dipper… I'm gonna… I'm gonna go check out who I hit, okay?" Her face went pale, keeping her eyes trained out front.

"...Okay…" I replied, but she didn't move.

She'd need a minute before she could approach it. I got that much, so I sat there with her. While I did, I decided to peer out the window again. There weren't any witnesses. We could probably get away with it if there really had been an accident, though I doubt there was. I've seen Wendy hit someone before, and it didn't feel like this. You definitely felt it when your car made impact with a body. This wasn't like that. I saw the figure, and I knew it didn't get out of the way, but we didn't hit it. It was almost like it… vanished.

Like it wasn't a body at all. It couldn't have been my imagination either, because I'm sure Wendy saw it, too. Unless we were both imagining it, which I highly doubted.

I looked to one of the stores, a dusty, red-bricked building which sprouted black mold at the corners. If there was a store manager inside, the clean up might not be so simple. We really did need to keep the witnesses to a minimum. I thought out a couple of scenarios that might keep it covered up, but could never stay on track. There was some kind of noise outside that kept drawing my attention, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it. I looked around, seeing nothing, until my focus turned to the tip of the convenience store. Birds. Big, fat, black birds that sat atop the building, flapping their wings and fluttering around. At that moment, I hadn't realized it, but there were an unbelievable amount of birds.

I heard Wendy take small breaths, talking to herself in a reassuring tone. She'd work up the nerve soon enough. In the meantime, I watched as more and more birds began to congregate atop the store.

"Alright." Wendy said.

"Alright?" I responded.

She took a breath, grabbing the door's handle. As she did however, I began to notice something. There had been someone outside. An old man, maybe mid-60s, walking across the street. He didn't look too bright, so I almost instantly wrote him off as a witness to a potential crime scene.

"...Alright." I looked over at Wendy, still fixated on the door's handle. This was the final stretch for her before she worked up the nerve, I knew. I looked back to the rear view mirror, seeing the old man hobble across the street.

That's when the birds got him.

A billowy flurry of black feathers swooped down on the man, swirling about him in a mesh of raven wings. When they flew back, the man was a skeleton.

"Holy shit… HOLY SHIT!" I panicked. And, just as I did, Wendy began to creak open the door.

"No! Don't-!" I reached out to her, pulling at her arm as she extended the door. Once the door began to prop open, the birds swooped down, and an explosion of dark wings canvassed the left side of the car.

"Woah! What the fuck?!" She screamed. "What is this?!"

"Birds!" And with that, we were surrounded.


	37. Birds! (2)

Pacifica paced about the shack, massaging her hands anxiously. She turned to her phone, the bedazzled brick's antenna snapped up against the wall, lying on the bed.

"He'll be fine... He'll be _fine._ The only reason he'd call me is if something went wrong…" She threw herself on the bed, draping her arm over her eyes. Her shift didn't start until twelve on sundays, which left her with plenty of time to relax. That is, if she could get him out of her head. Which was hard. They'd only known each other for as long as the summer had run, and yet felt a connection. A very… _odd_ connection. But, nonetheless, a connection. Like the love story of a unicorn and a vampire. Kinda _wrong_ , but kinda _sweet_. She began to smile.

"He's fine. I'm sure he's fine…" She sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She waltzed over to the window, leaning her face towards the glass. It was murky. A solum blue. The kind that could swallow you whole if you let it. It seemed soft and cozy, yet left a strange taste in her mouth. Something seemed wrong about today. She turned to her alarm clock. It wasn't even ten yet. Two whole hours of doing nothing, waiting for Dipper to call her because she only gave him her number, and not vice versa. She could walk to his house, but feared the worse. If his grunkle Stan or Mabel answered, she wouldn't know what to do. That's when her phone rang. She dove for it, her face mashing into the sheets as her phone tweeted it's shrill rings. She looked at the collar ID, an unknown number flashing at her. It had to be him.

"Oh Shit. Oh Shit. _Oh Shit_!" Pacifica went on, bouncing to her feet.

"Alright. Calm down. We got this." She said, taking a breath. She pressed the "answer" button, lying back on her bed.

" _Hellooooooo_?" She began, only to panic. "Wait! _No_! Let me try that again!" She heard cawing in the background. The caller didn't respond instantly, a few muffled screams just beyond the speaker.

" _PAZ!? Where are you?!"_ Shattered glass came from the background.

"Dipper? Are you _okay_?"

"No time to explain! I- _ **SHIT!**_ Paz! Paz, listen! I'm gonna need- uh- Lighter fluid-" A grown man's gurgled screams rose from the background. "A weedwacker-" A car engine's bark stretched on, hearing a familiar voice shout, "It won't _start!"_ Dipper's voice snapped away from the receiver, pointed at the person. "DAMN IT! Turn on the windshield wipers!" Their bickering began to escalate.

"Dipper? Dipper, what's going on!?" Pacifica persisted.

"Huh? Oh, yeah! Coat hangers! Lots and lots of coat hangers! And- maybe some bread? Whole wheat, probably? I-I don't know. Wendy, whole wheat or the white stuff?" A moment of incoherent mumbling before he snapped back to the phone. "Okay! Forget the bread! Just-"

"Dipper! I think I got it!" Wendy's shaking voice confirmed. A blackened cough came from what sounded like a car engine's kick starting.

"Fuck yes! Punch it!" Dipper cheered.

With that, there was a huge crashing sound, and the receiver cut off.

"...Dipper?" Pacifica questioned, holding her phone shakily. No response.

"Hello?!" She tried to breath, but found herself uneven and confused. "What the- What the fuck?! Holy shit, what the FUCK?!" She flopped on top of her bed, trying to make sense of what had just happened on the other end of that conversation. Nothing seemed to fit. Then, footsteps.

"Pacifica!" Gideon burst through the doors. Pacifica screamed, julting from her bed, phone still clutched to her chest.

"Jesus! You scared me-"

"I need your help!" He began to sweat, his chest heaving after his marathon up the steps.

"I'm kinda _busy_ at the moment!" She turned away from him, fiddling with her phone.

" _There's gotta be a redial option somewhere…"_ She pressed mindlessly at each button, the jumbled beeps nameless and confusing.

"Pacifica, I'm serious! This is a _big deal_!" She dropped her phone to her side, turning around sharply with a sneer.

"Gideon! What could possibly have-" She stopped, being met face-to-face with a glistening "three" as Gideon held up the journal to her. She stared at it, and then peeked over to look at Gideon, sprouting a guilt-ridden expression. He avoided her gaze, instead looking at the floor.

"Gideon…" She began. "What did you do?"

He paused, clearing his throat, letting the journal fall to his side.

"Follow me." He beckoned, walking out of the room. Pacifica lived in the attic. Second floor, first bedroom. Gideon, however, slept on the first floor, down the hall. A small room. The region was dark, stale air polluting the space. Pacifica turned to flick for a light switch, and when none was found, instead adjusted her eyes. There was a small bed in the corner, resting just below a stained glass window. Shadowed test tubes, glistening from the hallway light, shined with foreign objects injected in each. Dark posters of monsters and mysteries hugged each wall, grotesque and obtuse. The room seemed characteristically geeky, even housing a dungeons, dungeons, and more dungeons under mounds of dirty clothes. However, something ominous lurked within. Pacifica looked to the floor, the corners swallowed whole by darkness. Nonetheless, she could make out large etchings, both black and red. She squinted her eyes for a moment, only for Gideon to tug on a small string, illuminating the space.

" _Ah._ " She hissed, rubbing at her eyes. When she opened them, pure shock ran through her veins. She stood in the center of what looked like the lining of a large bird, outstretched wings caged within a giant chalk-circle. There were four candles, unlit, encircling the bird at it's temple, either wing, and its talons. One candle in particular had been tipped over, now lying aimlessly at its side.

"Gideon." She turned to him slowly. "What the _fuck?"_

"I know. I know." He began to regain himself, bending over to reposition the tipped over candle. "Honestly, I didn't even think it would _work._ But-... But, it did." He sighed, a crumpled look on his face. He cracked open his journal for a moment, only to snap it shut with a groan.

"Work? I'm sorry, what? What is this? A seance?" She bent down, rolling her fingers over the black bird etching, streamed thinly by a red line. "This _looks_ like a seance."

Gideon gulped, once again avoiding her gaze.

" _Nooooo._ Not- It's not a _seance._ It's, uh- Well-" He began, pulling at his collar. Pacifica stood, closing the gap between them.

"It's _what?_ " Her eyes narrowed, burning into his skin. She placed her hands on her hips, tapping her foot as she watched him fidget. His face grew red, trying to find the words to explain himself.

"Well-... It really _isn't_ a seance. It's a… well, it's a magic circle." He finished.

"I beg your pardon?" She cocked her eyebrow up in confusion, maintaining her stern demeanor. She continued to advance on him until his back was against the wall. She towered over him, having at least six inches on him. "Let me restate my earlier question: **What. Did you.** _ **DO**_ **?** "

Gideon froze for a moment, taking a deep breath. He shifted his eyes, focusing on a large binder on his bed. He slipped out from in front of her, bringing the binder to his lap.

"I've never been one for sticking my neck out too far. I could never confront them. Never." He flipped it open, landing on a random page. The single snapshot of a bloody glove. A trash can with a tongue sticking out. The black silhouette of a slender man's figure. A muddied pair of shoes. Crimson scissors. A broken branch. He pointed to that one.

"You see, the branch means there was probably a struggle. They found some footprints, but never found the body." He began. "And there." He pointed to the trash can photo. "It's a lamb's tongue. Maybe some kind of evil ritual? Some kind of sacrifice. I'm not sure-" Pacifica stopped him.

"Gideon, what does this have to do with anything?" She asked impatiently, tapping her cheek with her index finger. He continued, pointing to the silhouette picture.

"I took this snap shot a few years back. It's one of my earliest pieces of evidence. No one believed me, though. No one." He sighed, rubbing its slick surface.

"Believed what?" She asked.

"Do you know who this is?" He shifted the binder into her lap. Pacifica didn't spend much time examining it. The shot was so vague. A shaded back. Tall. Thin. Broad shoulders. A tint of blue. Just a little. Brown hair. Maybe black?

"It's Dipper." He confirmed. She squinted her eyes, trying to make out the features more exactly. He was a bit shorter, and you couldn't make out his articles of clothing. From the slenderness of his waist, it could have just as easily been a woman, if not for his finely structured back. She considered it, though remained doubtful.

"I caught him at the scene of the crime, Paz. Back when I was ten. I caught him doing it. You've gotta believe me, I did." He let out with a faraway tone, as if to recall the memory.

"Doing… What?" She shuffled away from him a bit, getting a good view of his face. He seemed exceedingly distraught.

"I just needed some proof. Real proof. I needed picture-perfect evidence that they weren't who they said they were." He droned on, unable to register her question. "But how? I'm a coward. I could never confront such evil. They'd kill me, I was sure."

"Kill? Gideon, what are you talking about? What do any of these pictures have to do with Dipper?"

Once again, he ignored her question. "Then it hit me. I didn't _have_ to confront them. Not directly." He slid his hand on the cover of his journal, flipping to a saved page. A bird, identical to the one traced on the floor, was printed crassly. Splats of blood and ink congregated on its page corners. Pacifica began to sweat.

"I-" He stopped himself, considering the repercussion of his words. "I made a deal." He moved to the center of the circle, engulfed by paranoia and shame. Things were beginning to click.

"Were you _spying_ on Dipper?" She began. "For some wack job _conspiracy_? Oh, Gideon!" She rubbed her temple, sliding off the bed. "Why are you so obsessed with that guy? What do you think he did? You think he _killed_ somebody? For real, Gideon? You think he's going out _killing_ people?"

" _ **Yes.**_ " The sureness of Gideon's cold response chilled Pacifica. "And I was going to prove it, too. With this." He stretched out his arms, directing her attention to the bird. "It's a _bird's eye view_. Get it?"

"Nope. Not one bit." She shook her head.

"It was meant for spying only. I could take my pictures through _the bird's eye_ and have all the proof I needed." He bent down under his bed, sliding out a disposable camera. "I got a couple of pieces, but nothing incriminating." He sighed.

"Woah, Gideon! How long have you been _spying_ on him?" She cocked her eyebrow with a scowl, although envying him somewhere deep in her mind.

"Less than a week. Nothing scandalous. The _bird's eye_ only provides a view from the perspective of a bird. If Dipper's within view, that's what I catch a glimpse of. I can't go into his house, sadly." He explained.

" _And…_ What've you found?" She asked awkwardly. There was no way he had anything seriously… interesting about Dipper to share. Not unlike if one of her female friends had been spying. But, she still felt an odd twinge of curiosity, and hoped for some kind of payoff. She reached for the camera, shuffling through the pictures.

"Hardly _anything!_ He spends his time either crying, sleeping, or reading. And, most of the time, it isn't even anything _good!_ It's stuff like " _Catcher in the Rye_ " and " _Suicide notes_ ". I spent maybe five _days_ spying on him, and _nothing!_ And then-..." Pacifica looked up from the camera to stare at him.

" _Then_ … _**What**_?" She sat back down on the bed, crossing her legs. She placed her head in her hands, waiting for his explanation. His eyes shifted to hers, then to the floor, then to the candles. He sauntered over to the one placed at the bird's head.

"I was angry." He picked up the candle. "I must have knocked it over last night. That's when I gave up on the whole thing. Really. I did. But-... I made a mistake." He said. "The candles are what keep the birds in check. As long as they stand tall and continued to burn, control of the birds is maintained."

"But you threw a tantrum?" She commented.

"I got _upset._ It was like watching paint dry. I don't _know_. I had assumed his life would be nonstop criminal activity. But, then you came over to his place and started talking, and I realized just how hopeless it was."

"You were _spying_ on us?!" She gasped.

"We've established that already. Let go of the past. Anyways, that's where the problem lies." He elaborated, handing her the journal. "My side of the bargain became null and void once I knocked over one of the candles. But, the birds' end is still being upheld. As long as they continue to keep their end of the deal, they'll be uncontrollable." Pacifica's face grew pale, reading out loud the panicked warning scribbled on the next page.

"Warning: _Do not summon birds. Do not make contact. Do not communicate with birds. Do not bird, I beg of you._ Fucking really, Gideon?!" She exclaimed. She clutched the journal between her sweating palms, bringing it towards her chest. "Gideon, this shit is _evil!_ Not just spying, but you made some weird magic demon circle-thingy that controls animals and peeps on teen boys! What the heck?!"

Gideon looked to the ground in shame, shuffling his shoes across the floor. "I know…" He rubbed the back of his neck, looking to the bird's talons. "That's why I need your help."

"You messed up so badly you actually need to come to me for help?" She smirked, though still expressing obvious annoyance. He nodded awkwardly.

"How?" Pacifica asked. "How are we gonna fix this?"

"If we can get the birds to fulfill their side of the bargain, they'll go back to normal. At least, I think so."

"Which is….?" She asked.

"Expose his secret." He responded. This struck a chord with Pacifica. Something that seemed to remind her of just a few minutes ago on the phone. She had remembered the screaming on the other end. The shattering glass. The car engine. The crash. The cawing.

"If the birds were to… I don't know… _kill_ Dipper before exposing any of his secrets to us, what would happen?"

"Absolute chaos. _Birdemic_ style. If they have no way of completely the deal, there's no way of returning them to normal... Oh no."

"Oh yeah. Jesus, Gideon!" She smashed her hands into her face, flopping back on his bed, before julting back up once more towards the door.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"Haven't you ever seen _Birdemic?_ I'm getting clothes hangers. And a flame thrower. And a leaf blower. And some bread. And maybe some kind of spell…? Fuck it. Where are the keys to the golf cart?" Gideon pointed to the key holder just by his window. Pacifica snatched them without a second thought. "Get your vest on. I'm not cleaning your mess up alone." She snapped.

"Okay!" He complied. "Hey! Don't hold it like that! You'll cringle the pages!" He pointed to the journal, making small grabs at it. She pulled it above her head.

"You've lost your journal privileges, boy-o."


	38. Skull Fracture

"Dude! I think I've got it!" I felt the engine catch, adrenaline filling as the car's seats absorbed its vibrations. I turned to Dipper with a nerve-stricken beam. He pumped up his fists, clenching his phone.  
"Fuck yeah! Punch it!" With that, I jammed my foot into the gas pedal, its inertia smacking us back against our seats. It was only at that moment I realized my mistake. The ravens had been swarming my car at all sides, blocking even the slightest glimpse of what might be in front. Or on either side. Or above. Or anywhere. We had been completely blinded. And, by the time my truck's force knocked away the birds, I was left with a full view of Gravity falls local bar: Skull Fracture.  
We crashed through the wall, once again catching ourselves before impact. Bricks sprayed across the room, knocking a few customers inside unconscious. " ** _Shit_**." I let out. I turned to Dipper in the passenger seat, taking in his current state: Shaken. Ruffled hair. Both arms outstretched to catch himself before impact. Wide-eyed pupils shrunk to almost impossible size. Phone, cracked and broken against the car's dash. His head, pointed down, facing the car's floor. His breathing, heavy, but even. He was okay. I clenched my fists on the steering wheel, taking in a breath.  
" _Shit, Wendy_ …" He remarked, flopping back in his seat. He ran his right hand through his hair, closing his eyes with a strained expression. " _What the Hell_ …?" I turned behind me, a clear view of the outside. I had tapped into my dumb-luck bank and gotten the car propped into the hole just right. I could open my door if I needed to, while the truck's back side stuffed up the tavern's cavity without letting the birds in. For now. I sighed with relief, turning towards him.  
"Any idea what's going on?" He was perfect with this type of thing. I'd known him since he was twelve, and he'd faced some crazy shit. I was sure he had some info on this.  
"No clue." He began. "But, whatever they are, they seem hungry. We need to find an escape route before they come busting through the windows." With that, he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to the door. It's side had been canvassed with bricks and debry, forcing him to give it a stern kick. After a few stomps and the shuffling of ruble, his door popped open.  
"Come on." He beckoned, sliding from the pile of rocks to his stumbling feet. I bit my lip, taking in the options. If we stayed here, there was a possibility of them going away. But, I knew that was unlikely. I looked to my window, then to Dipper, then to the back of the car, and back to him. I knew my only real chance of survival. I kicked my door open, landing on my feet. I swept to his side, keeping both shoulders straight and broad to seem sturdy. I couldn't let him know just how freaked I was.  
The bar was dimly lit, purple and red lamp-lights the only bit of genuine illumination we received. I scanned the room, quickly overwhelmed by the number of bulky, male scowls. I didn't have much time to dust off my pants before people started approaching us.  
"What are **_you two_** doing here?" He sat at the edge of the bar, his dark boots kicked up on the table. A cigarette, it's butt burning a bright red dot into the tavern's darkness, hung from his lips. A slick leather jacket, large shoulder pads swallowing his neck whole, sat on his shoulders. I felt my brow furrow, hearing his haunting voice. The leader of the infamous Panther-Puma Squad. The P.P. Squad. He had it out for me specifically, ever since I spray painted those initials onto his car.  
"Evening, Tyler." Dipper stepped forward, his hands jammed into either pocket. Slitted, intelligent eyes met Tyler's blasing ones. It'd happened almost a year ago, maybe a month before Dipper broke his arm. The tavern put in place a strict "No Dumbasses" policy on the bar. I couldn't tell you which night had been the last straw or what we had even done to get thrown out for good. All I remembered from those nights was a dark, sunken Dipper in the mist of his own self-loathing, followed by an elated, drunken Dipper for the rest of the night. We'd done a good job keeping away from this place, but now we were in deep shit.  
"Don't give me _that_. You're not to step _foot_ in this place again. Remember what I said would happen if you did?" He slid from his stool, saundering up to Dipper. His arms folded, puffed out chest, exposing himself to some level of dominance. Even with Dipper's extra six inches over him.  
"Deputy Blubs. Jail-time. I recall." Dipper winced a bit, sprouting a smile as though it were something small. "Now's a little different, though."  
"Yeah. This time, I assume you got drunk _before_ hitting the bar. ** _Look at my damn wall!_** " He growled, gesturing towards the gaping hole Wendy had graciously made on her way in. "You'd better have a darn good explanation, kid!"  
"I'm not a kid." He responded sourly.  
"You won't be _by the time you get out of prison_!" He slammed his fist against the bar's sleek top, his temple radiating with a boiled red. He began to advance on Dipper, his finger pointed accusingly at his chest. In any other situation, Pine'd be on the offense. He didn't look it, but he could be a real hot head if you went pointing fingers at him and calling him a kid and all that dumb shit he took offense to. But, today was a bit different. He couldn't go flinging gang leaders out into the streets through a window. Mainly because the birds would most definitely come in through it and possibly eat us all. This was a time for alliance. Dipper, instead, when on the defensive. He put his hands up innocently, a soft look on his face.  
"Woah, woah, woah. I'm not here to cause _trouble_."  
"Tell that to my wall, Pines. _You're fucking drunk_!" He spat, scowling all the while. Dipper continued on the defensive.  
"No I'm not, Tyler. I swear. I've been sober for a long time, okay? A long time." He bunched up his shoulders, acting shocked. I'd have to take notes if I wanted to seem as not-guilty as he did. The bastard could've been a saint, for all I knew. Tyler leaned in on Dipper's face, giving him a sniff.  
"You don't _smell_ sober. When was your last drink?" I could see the sweat droplets form on the back of his neck, though he kept his composure. Damn. He really was good.  
"Almost a year ago. A friend just spilled a bit on me, that's all." Tyler seemed unconvinced.  
"Sure. Sure. And, I assume you weren't behind the wheel either, right?" Dipper took particular offense to this, considering it was the one thing he'd never do, no matter how drunk he was. I specifically remember asking Dipper to drive us both home one night after a party, and he almost attacked me. ' _What the fuck are you thinking, Wendy?! What the- what the fuck do you think I am? I-... I would never do that shit! Dumb fucking idiots do that shit, you know? My- *Hicc* my fucking dad did that shit one time, you know? Almost killed mom, like what the Hell?! I- I was almost not born cause of that, you know?!_ ' In short, he took offense more than anything to that. I thought he'd snap for sure, which couldn't happen. We couldn't get thrown out. They might as well serve us on a plate, if that's the case. And, sure enough, Dipper's face scrunched up in almost instant anger.  
"Uh, _excuse me_ -?!" I hooked my arm over his mouth, bringing his chin to my shoulder.  
"We need your guys help." I cut in. Dipper's muffled words dug into the cravis of my elbow for a moment, only for his shoulders to slump as he calmed down. I freed him.  
"We're being chased." I continued, moving to the center of the conversation.  
"I'm sure a lot of people are chasing _you_ , **_Ms. Corduroy_**." Tyler pulled out with a sneer. "I, for one, don't like my damn car spray painted. And, I'm sure a hell of a lot more of your victims don't either. Right boys?" He turned to the bar-dwellers, grumbling and barking in agreement. I cleared my throat.  
"It's a bit bigger than just some guy, **_Mr. Tyler_**." I snapped at him, giving a sore look. I jammed my thumb behind me, directing their attention past my truck. "We've got some supernatural shit on our hands."  
" _Don't you always_."  
" _Don't I always_." I smacked back at him, crossing my arms. I didn't have as much height on him as Dipper did, but I could sure as hell seem as intimidating.  
"Well, you can't be bringing that type of trouble here. So, why don't you two kids _scatt_?"  
"Maybe if there was some place to scatt _to_. In a couple of minutes, you guys won't be so safe either." We stood toe-to-toe, glaring into each other's eyes, either of our mouths foaming at the corners.  
"That sounds like a threat, rat's nest."  
"Damn straight, whiskers." I leaned in even more, till our heads bumped up against each others.  
"You've gotten pretty damn disrespectful, kid." His mustache twitched at the edges. "Not like when you were young."  
"I had a _father_ back then, dick." I snarled, expecting an even nastier response. Instead, to my surprise, Tyler looked stunned. I had forgotten all about their history in this tavern.  
"And he was a good man." He backed up. His face remained stern, although his brow had softened a bit.  
"The night your father-... The night your father took his own life was a hard night for everyone." A single sniff was heard in the room, followed by a long silence. When Tyler's lips parted, the subtle sound put all attention on him. " _It'd do you some good to try and leave his memory untainted._ " He mumbled grimmly, turning his back on me. My brow furrowed.  
"I beg your pardon?" I scoffed in disbelief, taken back by his audacious tone. He said nothing, moving back to his seat at the isle. Something about that made me boil. Dad had been a bartender. Dad had served that man a million different drinks and laughed a million different times and told a million different stories. And now, he was sitting back in his seat, feeling like _he_ had been the one to lose him the most. Well, that wasn't the case at all. When that smile left this bar, it left home too. His storied evaporated, and his laugh was swept out the door in an instance. My face burned.  
"What do you know about his memory?!" I stepped forward, whipping out an accusing finger. Dipper grabbed my shoulder.  
"Wendy! _Don't_!" I didn't listen.  
"What do _any of you_ know about his memory?!" I spun around, making eye contact with each and every one of the men in there.  
"None of you knew a _damn thing_ about him!" Dipper pulled at my waist, trying to steady me.  
"Wendy, seriously. Calm down. Stay calm-" I put my hand up to him, avoiding his gaze.  
"'Cause if you did, you'd know how fucking _proud_ he was of the Corduroy name! Everything he did, he did because he was a _flippin Corduroy_!" I balled up my fist, banging it against the isle.  
"So, what makes me so different?! Huh?!" I stormed up to Tyler, much to Dipper's disapproval, who was still trying to calm me. Tyler continued to stare at his drink, half-empty, a dark shadow cast over him.  
"Well, Tyler?! I'm a Corduroy, aren't I?! _So, what makes me so damn different from him_?!" Once again, I slammed my fist on the isle, hoping to alarm him. He remained still, though. So I yanked him by the collar of his shirt.  
" ** _Look at me, bitch_**!" I shook him, his startled eyes staring back at me. The room quickly filled with shocked gasps as his head whipped back and forth the more I shook him. I felt arms wrap around my waist on either side, ripping me up into the air with a vicious force.  
"That is _enough_ , Wendy!" Dipper barked, yanking me away from Tyler, off of the floor. I continued to flail around, making jabs at Dipper to let me go.  
"Yeah! Scared know!? Huh, Tyler?!" I could see the disbelief in his eyes, watching me spew every insult and curse I could find. " _Fight me, bitch! Fight me_!"  
" _Dipper. Do me a favor and take out the trash, will you_?" Tyler turned back to his drink, rubbing his finger around the rim of his mug. Dipper's face scrunched up, dropping me. As he did, I found my chance and began to charge at him. Dipper quickly caught me by my arms, holding me back.  
"If you gave a rat's ass about my dad's legacy, you'd know just by looking that I was a Corduroy! And you wanna know something, Tyler? I'm pretty damn sure you can see it!"  
"Shut up." Tyler grumbled, miserably.  
"You just hate how much of him you see in me! That's all it's been, isn't it?!"  
" _Shut up_." He said again, louder this time.  
"I stake every bit of the Corduroy's reputation on this shit, Tyler! This stupid shit we barged in here for! If you really cared for my father, you'd know I was legit just by my nam-"  
" ** _Shut the Hell up_**!" He burst out of his seat, causing me to stop my thrashing. The room went silent, Tyler's huffing breaths the only thing audible.  
" **You** -!" He began, his long, pale finger shaking with anger as he pointed at me. "You're the one who doesn't know _jack shit_ about your dad! If you knew anything, _you'd know he wouldn't just throw that name around like it was replaceable_." He began to advance, making long steps to meet me. I could feel Dipper shuffle in front of me, ready to make a barrier if need be. But, now was the perfect time to pull them in.  
"Than let me prove to you I deserve the name!" I began. "On his grave, I'm a Corduroy." I took my fist, patting it against my chest, gritting my teeth with determination. "I'm calling in a favor, Tyler. A favor that, at some point in my father's lifetime, I'm sure you weren't able to repay him. I'm sure of it! Because that was the kind of man he was!" His face continued to grow darker and darker with every word.  
"You're not your father." He responded.  
"But, I am a-"  
" **Don't**." His eyes squinted shut, his fingers pressing the bridge of his nose in frustration. He took a moment, mumbling to himself, before meeting my eyes.  
"You want to stake every bit of respect we have for your father? _Fine_. If it's worth our time, we'll help your sorry asses." He hissed, leaning his elbow on the isle's slick top.  
"But, if it's worthless-" He began. "We're calling the police. You'll be thrown away for breaking my wall. Not to mention you've already been banned once before." Dipper pulled at my sleeve, giving me a bit of his reassurance.  
"Deal, Ty." I huffed. Tyler put his hands in his pockets, his feet shuffled outwards, giving me a stern look.  
"Well, _Ms. Wendy_." He commented, giving me a scowl. "What little monster are you up against? A fairy? Leprechauns? Gnomes?" Dipper sniffed at him, rolling his eyes.  
"Why don't one of your guys go take a look outside and see?" He suggested. I gaped at Dipper, hearing the bold and nasty intent of his words. I was about to contradict him, when one the men in the bar, too willing to prove their manliness, took the bait and barged out the door. It swung open and shut, giving only a moment for the bird's notice. Perhaps it was the door's bell that alerted them. Perhaps they had been waiting outside peacefully for our emergence. Whatever the case, the man had no more than a moment of fresh air when they all flocked him.  
"What the Sam-Hill is that?!" Tyler gasped. The room was silent, the blackened feathers of each bird's silhouette darkening the bar. Dipper stood in front of the door, looking out with a bland expression.  
"Birds." He said. With that, he rushed open the door, pulling the man back in by his wrist, and slammed it shut once more. The man was shaken, cuts and claw marks all over his shoulders and face. Feathers stuck out from the corners of his shirt, as well as the belt of his pants, which had been torn to shreds.  
"That enough for you guys?" Wendy mocked, turning to meet Tyler's disturbed expression.  
"Maybe too much." He mussed back, trying his hand at a light chuckle. "How many are there?"  
"Who knows? Hundreds, maybe. We're not sure why they're here."  
"What do you want us to do?" Tyler queiried, his brow pinched and confused. He took a look outside, the birds no longer out of view. They swarmed the bar, pecking and cawing at the glass. Wendy stood, popping her neck from side to side as she spoke.  
"Fight."


End file.
